Due to my inherent lack of ability to work the university's internet system without somehow logging out and or crashing the demented thing, internet connection has been a vastly rare thing. Not to mention a lack of promised internet connection in my new house. Thusly (who on earth uses the word thusly? Sheldon?) updates have come slowly and aggravatingly!
My conscience bears down heavily.
Well, my degree has been finalized, I am now taking, a Bachelor of Arts majoring in.
May the snare drums roar!
Professional Writing
and
Creative Writing
Let me give you a short explanation to save you from having to listen to my lenghtly speech on what it is. Professional writing is pretty much writing for industry, for advertisment and such. It is sort of the more industry orientated form of writing. Mostly persuasive writing to sell stuff. Creative writing is the flowery stuff that Jk Rowling and Doctor Seuss does. In short, the creative writers write the book, the professional writers write the cover.
Wonder what life would be like if I were a molecular astrophysicist.
After touching down in Australia, I must admit, I do feel slightly lost, however the presence of church friends and old friends never does cease to cheer me up. The flight here was actually quite pleasant other than that torture device they call a seat. Goodness, if you could somehow pay extra and get Mr Asia to upgrade your seats to something more comfy I honestly wouldn't mind splurging an extra dollar or two. But thanks to a book, and a lack of babies with miniature sonic boom transmitters, I was fine!
Honestly, I'm a tad bit wary and afraid of the whole university experience. Not to mention the nature of the degree I'm taking. Professional and Creative writing may be an experience that I seems tailored to suit me. However after checking the work some students in my discipline have done, I fear for myself because I have no clue about what they're writing!
For instance.
Poetry, the sewing of words and their connotations to form coherent and suggested beauty. I have no clue what it's about. It is the complete bane of my existence, how could I tell that the poet is trying to talk about the moral dilemma of this world when he's talking about teddy bears dipped in oil? Nonsense.
Not to mention my apparent inability to write a non cheesy romance story. Don't judge me! The only experience I was reading Archie Comic books and watching comedy romance movies. Problems arising? Not if I can gaze into your sweet limpid, pools you call eyeballs.
Also I fear that perhaps my future might not be as secure than if I had chosen to do something more established, let's say a law degree made a life altering decision to take on a degree in theoretical physics. Not likely, but its nice to wonder.
Honestly, as this stage in time, I feel like I'm in a little rubber dinghy in a huge ocean with many islands and continents. All I have, a little wooden paddle to go where I think looks good. Looks intimidating, feels scary but oh, so full of excitement and hopefulness. Its also extremely comforting to have a God Positioning System in my lil boat. (your eyeball's rolling be stopped)
Right now though, I think my little rubber dinghy is a hungry. Paddling off for lunch!
Till Next time.
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