We'll today is my mothers 50th birthday. I was going to call her and wish her a happy bday when I woke up this morning. But that was at 4:40 in the am and I figured she would be still asleep. So I rolled back over onto my stomach, and in the darkness I thought and meditated. Finally, I went back to sleep. I didn't wake up again for the second time until she called me. I wished her a happy birthday and whatnot. She told me that one of her clients family took her out for dinner. She continued with talking about how her lil man friend was going to order takeout and hangout with her today. The abruptly she adds "oh yeah I know you didn't want me to know because you didn't tell me, but I'm paying your hospital bill off." I'm like no she didn't just say that to me.
*If you didn't know in JUNE she was here visiting me, and basically broke into my mail box. She retrieved my mail. As I come home, baby girl runs from the back yard screaming "nana opened your mail." I knew she COULDN'T do that. Anyway, she committed a crime and felt that it was okay because I'm her daughter. I was pissed off, and hurt. @ her still treating me like a child and invading my property. No telling what else of mine she has.* Anyway, now it comes back again today.
She has known since that day in June that I had been "hospitalized" so why now on her birthday does she bring this up? I didn't say anything after she told me she knew. She just said that I don't have to worry now about the bill going into collections. I am mad and I feel violated all over again.
So I don't know what to do next. Do I tell her that her daughter has Bipolar? Do I lie about the circumstances that landed me there? Or do I pretend nothing is wrong?
I do not NEED a person that constantly is questioning me. "Did you take your meds today?" "Are you depressed or manic?" "Do you think you are suicidal?" "Your eyes seem a little dark and stormy, are you feeling okay?" Hell no! Like I've said previously I don't wear a darn shirt that says "I AM BIPOLAR." But some of my friends/professors (I was in some of their classes when it happened) do know. I know it probably crosses their mind , but they don't let me know it. I talk about it openly if they want to. They don't treat me any different. My mother will.
I always go back to that drive down Naiper Ave. in B.H. Michigan. One of her coworkers drove past us and she said "She's crazy. She is bipolar." WTF? I didn't know about me back then, but I hate when people mock people who have differences other than themselves. Especially disabilities. She did it again last week when I was on the phone with her driving home from work. She said, "You know such and such? Well the one who had retarded daughter?" I said "no" in a lower tone pretending to be distracted. I tuned her out from that moment on. I was thinking there she goes again. And of course I remember Alicia, and she had down syndrome. I didn't even want to ask her if she died since she used "had."
I guess this may be my opportunity to tell her exactly what's up, and how I feel. But I don't want to. I don't if I'm ready. But the up side to this is once she does know I can finally become the type of mental health advocate I want to be. I don't think I will be to fully achieve that status until I come out of total hiding.I can't wait until I graduate so I can start working on my non-profit organization. I guess of not now..then it will happen later.
I wish that I could be open with you
But you have been invading my privacy
Since I can remember..
You always apologize
Yet never mean it
Because you turn right around
And do it again
Thinking that it's your right to know everything
Because you're my mother
And I'm you're kid
But that's not how it goes
It's called trust...
And there is no way..
That I trust you..
How can I?
I had to hide my art
While living in your house
For the fear of being read wrong
But you still found it..
And made sure I knew ..
Should have kept it a secret
When you read..
That I had lost my virginity
When in all actuality
The poem was about my bff..Kourtney
I lost tons of respect for you
Because you invaded my poetry
Now your invading my life as an adult
When I am hundreds of miles away
I feel violated right now...
The same way I felt when I was 16
All I can do now
Is buy a safe..
And when you come to visit
I can lock all my privacy away
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Friday Post!!
First, I must say...Art is a representation of it's artist yes, but when it comes to me and my poetry aka rhythmic reflections everything I write about doesn't depict my life. I write about the homeless, yet I haven't been homeless. I write about being a prostitute, and I've never been pimped. I write about being autistic, but I am blessed to be able to interact with the world around me. I write about having a son, and I have a daughter. I write about having a husband in the military, and I do not. I don't know how many times I need to emphasize that I write about everything that I see. I've seen happiness. I've seen death, suicide, murder. I've seen poverty. I view the world through many peoples eyes. That's what makes me so good. So please readers, when you read something dark..remember where you are..Poetrynoir!
Right now I am so tired. I am in no way a -wake up -before 7 a.m. person, and of my classes are early in the morning:( Then when I am done with 3 classes each day I drive a hour to work, and a hour back home. That is two hours out of my day that I could be using to do some of this homework that I have.
My kids at the after school program are still rowdy, and very disobedient. Today I am trying to read a story while the other teacher sets up for arts and crafts. One baby *she's 2* is being picked up by her aunt, and this new girl *she's 17* that they hired shut the door on Mikey's foot. Then instead of attending to him, she starts to ask us if the little girl had made a puppet. She knew already that she made a puppet because she saw me helping her make it. I was pissed by this point because she is really supposed to be there to help me. She is only 17, so therefor she cannot be left with the children alone!! So I take Mikey who is turning red, and screaming at the top of his lungs to the kitchen. I wipe his face off because he kept smearing his spit and tears all over his face and hands. I gave him some water, and he finally settled down. But get this..when the chick pulls back the curtain to the kitchen Mikey sees her and starts to scream and cry all over again. I mean big tears. He doesn't like her. Then instead of watching the remaining kids who are now running all over the place, she is fiddling with her IPOD. She started to play the "Cha Cha Slide". I'm like WTF..But you should have seen Mikey. He was sitting on top of the freezer, and he started to dance. He had rhythm! It was the cutest thing. I think I've found my special connection with Mikey. I have been observing Mikey, and I'm not sure if he is really autistic. He definitely has some social issues because he doesn't play with the other kids. Although he is totally into himself he understands the world around him somewhat. This I know for a fact when he saw that girl..."AAAAHHHHHH." Mikey...
I'm sure everyone
Who has a deep penchant to become
A great communicator
Have all sat in seats like ours
And felt the butterflies inside their stomachs
Flutter and fly around
They've felt a heart that feels to be beating so hard
That us nervous people are convinced that is audibly loud
It's almost like a thrill
A roller coaster of emotions
That can be hard to control
The deciding factor
Is will you or I let trepidation take hold?
........And cause you
Stumble over all of your words
Will you use filler words like..
Like or um?
Or will you take charge
Like firing a gun?
Nervousness is natural
But it is when it takes over
That's when it can't go unnoticed
You shake and shiver
As you struggle to enunciate each syllable
Your hands shake, and your legs wobble
You think everyone is laughing at you
But in all actuality they are probably
Just as scared as you..
I say just jump in
Either you will sink or you will swim
A cliche' I know
But what would life be..without them
They are true.,
Yet just slightly over used
Every time I have to speak now
I am going to try to remember my words
And take many, many deep breaths
Then suck it up..
And do what I gotta do..
Right now I am so tired. I am in no way a -wake up -before 7 a.m. person, and of my classes are early in the morning:( Then when I am done with 3 classes each day I drive a hour to work, and a hour back home. That is two hours out of my day that I could be using to do some of this homework that I have.
My kids at the after school program are still rowdy, and very disobedient. Today I am trying to read a story while the other teacher sets up for arts and crafts. One baby *she's 2* is being picked up by her aunt, and this new girl *she's 17* that they hired shut the door on Mikey's foot. Then instead of attending to him, she starts to ask us if the little girl had made a puppet. She knew already that she made a puppet because she saw me helping her make it. I was pissed by this point because she is really supposed to be there to help me. She is only 17, so therefor she cannot be left with the children alone!! So I take Mikey who is turning red, and screaming at the top of his lungs to the kitchen. I wipe his face off because he kept smearing his spit and tears all over his face and hands. I gave him some water, and he finally settled down. But get this..when the chick pulls back the curtain to the kitchen Mikey sees her and starts to scream and cry all over again. I mean big tears. He doesn't like her. Then instead of watching the remaining kids who are now running all over the place, she is fiddling with her IPOD. She started to play the "Cha Cha Slide". I'm like WTF..But you should have seen Mikey. He was sitting on top of the freezer, and he started to dance. He had rhythm! It was the cutest thing. I think I've found my special connection with Mikey. I have been observing Mikey, and I'm not sure if he is really autistic. He definitely has some social issues because he doesn't play with the other kids. Although he is totally into himself he understands the world around him somewhat. This I know for a fact when he saw that girl..."AAAAHHHHHH." Mikey...
I'm sure everyone
Who has a deep penchant to become
A great communicator
Have all sat in seats like ours
And felt the butterflies inside their stomachs
Flutter and fly around
They've felt a heart that feels to be beating so hard
That us nervous people are convinced that is audibly loud
It's almost like a thrill
A roller coaster of emotions
That can be hard to control
The deciding factor
Is will you or I let trepidation take hold?
........And cause you
Stumble over all of your words
Will you use filler words like..
Like or um?
Or will you take charge
Like firing a gun?
Nervousness is natural
But it is when it takes over
That's when it can't go unnoticed
You shake and shiver
As you struggle to enunciate each syllable
Your hands shake, and your legs wobble
You think everyone is laughing at you
But in all actuality they are probably
Just as scared as you..
I say just jump in
Either you will sink or you will swim
A cliche' I know
But what would life be..without them
They are true.,
Yet just slightly over used
Every time I have to speak now
I am going to try to remember my words
And take many, many deep breaths
Then suck it up..
And do what I gotta do..
Untitled
I know that struggles don't last long
I know that one day
Pain experienced
Will be memories in the present
And just something bad
That happened a long time ago
That was designed to teach "us" lessons
So that if we ever were tested again
We would already know the answers
To the questions asked..
That little voice
Named intuition
I often ignore
It always steers me right
And yet I rarely pay attention
To signs and clues from the universe
When I don't listen
I always get myself into trouble
When I could have avoided it
I travel through the tempest
I walk over fire..
I get burned
I find solace knowing that
Right sometimes is seen as wrong
And next time maybe I can save myself
From being hurt
If I just pay attention to the signs
Sent to me from Mother Earth...
I know that one day
Pain experienced
Will be memories in the present
And just something bad
That happened a long time ago
That was designed to teach "us" lessons
So that if we ever were tested again
We would already know the answers
To the questions asked..
That little voice
Named intuition
I often ignore
It always steers me right
And yet I rarely pay attention
To signs and clues from the universe
When I don't listen
I always get myself into trouble
When I could have avoided it
I travel through the tempest
I walk over fire..
I get burned
I find solace knowing that
Right sometimes is seen as wrong
And next time maybe I can save myself
From being hurt
If I just pay attention to the signs
Sent to me from Mother Earth...
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Wed. Post
When I was comin' up in school
I ain’t care..
When I went there..
I just went to look good..
Going to class was somethin' dat I
ain’t get into
I had to wake up too early in da mornin'
School was interruptin’ my dreams
I started skippin’ school wit my mama’s
permission in the 3rd grade
She would leave me home alone sometimes
wit my lil brother
I would make us noodles and ham sandwiches
and grape kool-aid.
And when she got home at night
she would tell me
Dat I was goin to school da next day
said she was helpin' me
Commit a crime
it was called truancy
But I can’t remember one week
where I ain’t skip at least one day
So somehow I made it through
and graduated
Class of 1998
I wasn’t alone walkin' across dat stage
I had somethin’ hidin' underneath
My graduation gown
I was pregnant wit..
My boyfriend’s child
at 18 years old..
I was finna be somebody’s mommy
and I really ain’t have no idea what to do
My baby’s father wasn’t bout nothin'
….when I went to him
About da matters of our child
he dissed me
Sayin’ dat there ain’t no way it’s his
callin' me all types of whores
Sayin’ dat I f*ed his boys
and he was ghost…
I never heard from him again
from dat day on..
It was just my baby and me..
I moved from my mama’s house
to da projects called Highland South
I got me some food stamps
and braided hair
So I could stay home
and not have to pay no daycare
My mama would watch lil man
when I wanted to run da streets
She would tell me I bet not come get him
if I was out there drinkin
Which I was…
often enough I would stumble home
Not knowin who I had just slept wit
not knowin if I had used protection
Prayin’ when I woke up
that I ain’t get HIV
I wasn’t no slouch though
I was getting’ paid for what I was doing
Had them payin’ all my bills
and I wasn’t doing nothin’
But openin’ my legs
and givin’ a lil bit of *you fill in the blank*
I had to put food on da table
and keep da lights on
My lil man stayed fresh
and you already know
Dat I was flyy
I ain’t have no real job
But somehow we always got by
until one day..
Bullets flew through my door..
apt 132 just got shot up..
I was caught in the line of da fire
I got shot in da chest and in da face
I must of blanked out for a minute
cuz I ain’t hear nothin’ else
Then I remember looking up
at a woman standin’ over me
Sayin’ dis is payback
for F*ing wit her babies daddy
She said she hoped dat I died
and if I didn’t she would be back
If I told anyone bout what just had happened
My lil boy was at my mama’s house
at da time
I was on da floor dying
straight up losing my life
All I could think of was my lil boy
who would grow up with no parents
Cuz I would be dead
and his daddy don’t care
All cuz I ain’t take the time out
to do what I should have done
Cuz of not handlin my business
when I should….I kept me and my baby in the hood
Another ghetto tragedy
they see me as another chicken head
Who ain’t nothin’ but dead..
I ain’t care..
When I went there..
I just went to look good..
Going to class was somethin' dat I
ain’t get into
I had to wake up too early in da mornin'
School was interruptin’ my dreams
I started skippin’ school wit my mama’s
permission in the 3rd grade
She would leave me home alone sometimes
wit my lil brother
I would make us noodles and ham sandwiches
and grape kool-aid.
And when she got home at night
she would tell me
Dat I was goin to school da next day
said she was helpin' me
Commit a crime
it was called truancy
But I can’t remember one week
where I ain’t skip at least one day
So somehow I made it through
and graduated
Class of 1998
I wasn’t alone walkin' across dat stage
I had somethin’ hidin' underneath
My graduation gown
I was pregnant wit..
My boyfriend’s child
at 18 years old..
I was finna be somebody’s mommy
and I really ain’t have no idea what to do
My baby’s father wasn’t bout nothin'
….when I went to him
About da matters of our child
he dissed me
Sayin’ dat there ain’t no way it’s his
callin' me all types of whores
Sayin’ dat I f*ed his boys
and he was ghost…
I never heard from him again
from dat day on..
It was just my baby and me..
I moved from my mama’s house
to da projects called Highland South
I got me some food stamps
and braided hair
So I could stay home
and not have to pay no daycare
My mama would watch lil man
when I wanted to run da streets
She would tell me I bet not come get him
if I was out there drinkin
Which I was…
often enough I would stumble home
Not knowin who I had just slept wit
not knowin if I had used protection
Prayin’ when I woke up
that I ain’t get HIV
I wasn’t no slouch though
I was getting’ paid for what I was doing
Had them payin’ all my bills
and I wasn’t doing nothin’
But openin’ my legs
and givin’ a lil bit of *you fill in the blank*
I had to put food on da table
and keep da lights on
My lil man stayed fresh
and you already know
Dat I was flyy
I ain’t have no real job
But somehow we always got by
until one day..
Bullets flew through my door..
apt 132 just got shot up..
I was caught in the line of da fire
I got shot in da chest and in da face
I must of blanked out for a minute
cuz I ain’t hear nothin’ else
Then I remember looking up
at a woman standin’ over me
Sayin’ dis is payback
for F*ing wit her babies daddy
She said she hoped dat I died
and if I didn’t she would be back
If I told anyone bout what just had happened
My lil boy was at my mama’s house
at da time
I was on da floor dying
straight up losing my life
All I could think of was my lil boy
who would grow up with no parents
Cuz I would be dead
and his daddy don’t care
All cuz I ain’t take the time out
to do what I should have done
Cuz of not handlin my business
when I should….I kept me and my baby in the hood
Another ghetto tragedy
they see me as another chicken head
Who ain’t nothin’ but dead..
**This whole broken english, ebonics, a.a. vernacular..whatever you like to call it..Is hard to write..especially if you didn't start writing a particular piece in that "fashion". So I may not be consistent. I really could care less at this point.***
Monday, August 18, 2008
A girl...
I am here
So I question my existence
I am an outsider
In a world that says
You have to belong
I wonder..
Why they are so worried about me
Because I have no concern
With myself..when I look
In the mirror..I hardly
Recognize my gaunt face
I am filled with self hate
Burning with rage
I don't like to answer questions
About why I dress
The way that I do
People always try
To figure me out
They just stare
Is that a boy
Who's confused..
And convinced that he's a female?
It's an instant reminder
That I don't fit into
"Normal" peoples ideologies
Because I am a 16 year old boy
Who wants to be a girl
I wear eyeliner
And I polish my nails and my toes
I dress up in my moms
Skinny jeans when she leaves
And I practice strutting in her pumps
I pretend I have hips
And two humps on my chest
By putting on her bra
And stuffing it with socks
She just figures..
Wearing eyeliner and polishing my nails
Is just a stage..
But she has never caught me
Dressing up in HER clothes
I wonder what she would think of me
If she knew I didn't want to be a boy?
I have no friends
I am a social outcast
As I walk down the hallways
Of my current life
All of my peers laugh
Because they don't understand
But I have a plan..
And a goodbye note
To all of the people
Who could have loved me
Whether I was a boy or girl
I am locked inside of a cage
Where I'm afraid to be me
I am suicidal
And I wish to die
So I can be set free
I have a rope
I will now hang myself
From a tree
In the front of my high school
In my mothers favorite outfit
wife beater.pumps.and skinny jeans
They will forever remember me
And think twice about taunting
Someone..
Who's sexuality..
They don't quite understand..
I am the poster child now
For boys who really are...
Girls
Who knows if
I will be accepted
Into the kingdom..
Who is ruled by God
Because I committed
The worst sin of all
I took my own life
Not abruptly though
I gave it a lot of thought
I was born this way
It wasn't something I was taught
And the circumstances
Of the world..
And their perfect ideologies
I was before my time
And now it's time for me to rest
Whether in heaven or in hell
I finally get to be..
A girl..
i am extremely tired. i have no idea if what i just wrote is coherent. I just needed to get it out..and i could have saved it as a draft, yes... but i'm starting to collect those, and like cereal that has been in my cabinet for 3 weeks..it's old so I can't use it.
So I question my existence
I am an outsider
In a world that says
You have to belong
I wonder..
Why they are so worried about me
Because I have no concern
With myself..when I look
In the mirror..I hardly
Recognize my gaunt face
I am filled with self hate
Burning with rage
I don't like to answer questions
About why I dress
The way that I do
People always try
To figure me out
They just stare
Is that a boy
Who's confused..
And convinced that he's a female?
It's an instant reminder
That I don't fit into
"Normal" peoples ideologies
Because I am a 16 year old boy
Who wants to be a girl
I wear eyeliner
And I polish my nails and my toes
I dress up in my moms
Skinny jeans when she leaves
And I practice strutting in her pumps
I pretend I have hips
And two humps on my chest
By putting on her bra
And stuffing it with socks
She just figures..
Wearing eyeliner and polishing my nails
Is just a stage..
But she has never caught me
Dressing up in HER clothes
I wonder what she would think of me
If she knew I didn't want to be a boy?
I have no friends
I am a social outcast
As I walk down the hallways
Of my current life
All of my peers laugh
Because they don't understand
But I have a plan..
And a goodbye note
To all of the people
Who could have loved me
Whether I was a boy or girl
I am locked inside of a cage
Where I'm afraid to be me
I am suicidal
And I wish to die
So I can be set free
I have a rope
I will now hang myself
From a tree
In the front of my high school
In my mothers favorite outfit
wife beater.pumps.and skinny jeans
They will forever remember me
And think twice about taunting
Someone..
Who's sexuality..
They don't quite understand..
I am the poster child now
For boys who really are...
Girls
Who knows if
I will be accepted
Into the kingdom..
Who is ruled by God
Because I committed
The worst sin of all
I took my own life
Not abruptly though
I gave it a lot of thought
I was born this way
It wasn't something I was taught
And the circumstances
Of the world..
And their perfect ideologies
I was before my time
And now it's time for me to rest
Whether in heaven or in hell
I finally get to be..
A girl..
i am extremely tired. i have no idea if what i just wrote is coherent. I just needed to get it out..and i could have saved it as a draft, yes... but i'm starting to collect those, and like cereal that has been in my cabinet for 3 weeks..it's old so I can't use it.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Monday Post!
My husband is gone
For the 4th year in a row
Sure he gets time off
But that's for maybe a month
Then hes back overseas
See he is a Marine
And he's over there fighting
For America the land of the free
Just to make money
To send home to me
We have a son
Jameson
Because his name is James
And that is his son
He looks just like him
Wants to be like daddy
When he grows up
He already is fascinated by guns
But I don't want him to follow
In his fathers footsteps
And leave his wife alone
With his kid
To go fight in a war
That no one will know
Why it started
And when it may end
Just to pay the bills
Leaving behind his wife and kids
Sure we get phone calls
Every week
Daddy's emails helped
Him learn to read
He loves to talk to daddy
About what goes on in war
I try to tell Jameson
That war is a sensitive subject
That shouldn't be talked about
But he tries to convince me
That he is just preparing himself
To be just like his daddy
Getting ready now..
To go to war
But not before
He goes to basic training
To become an official Marine
My stomach hurts
When he brings becoming
A Marine up
Because I don't want my baby
To be out there
Getting shot at
And dodging bombs
I already have to worry
About my husband
Every night..
Not only do I pray for him
But I pray for Jameson
To forget his future dream
Maybe my husband
Can talk him out of it
When he comes home..
From this war
That took him away from us
*******************************
i am not easily guided
when i do not
ask to be led
i am stubborn
i like things my way
but heaven forbid
that i haven't a clue
i will call
the people i "talk" to most
and ask them
what shall i do?
i find it somewhat hard
to make a decision
without others input
if i plan on
being known
for what i do best
that means exposing
my flo..
further than here
and further than my notebooks
i will have to be edited
line breaks broke
someone else will HAVE
to give their input
altering my "babies"
and changing my works
i will have to come out
share my most important parts
expose the world
to my beating heart
my memoirs..
and my most intimate thoughts
breaking down the stigma
further than here
"Poetry Noir"
may be ready
but I don't know about me...
**************************************
So..I am going to school!!
I'm taking 18 credit hours..don't ask me why..but I am..I go to school everyday which I'm not too happy about..Gas is high, and the mileage is killing my truck...But nonetheless I am happy that I am getting closer to graduating. I have 12 more classes left..and however long it takes. I will finish!! I don't have any math this semester so I should be good.
Aesthetics
Writing for Digital Media
Research Methods
Writing for Mass media
Media and Culture
Media Studies....
A whole lot of writing..
I don't have any books so here is my plan. I hope it works until I get them or what not. I need to find a buddy. I'm guessing probably a boy. Girls hate too much.."Bitch please..fail".. I will convince him that I will do all of the reading and fill him in with great detail. But I need to be able to pick out the lazy boy who doesn't care. So wish me luck!! I don't have a plan B..this is all I got.
For the 4th year in a row
Sure he gets time off
But that's for maybe a month
Then hes back overseas
See he is a Marine
And he's over there fighting
For America the land of the free
Just to make money
To send home to me
We have a son
Jameson
Because his name is James
And that is his son
He looks just like him
Wants to be like daddy
When he grows up
He already is fascinated by guns
But I don't want him to follow
In his fathers footsteps
And leave his wife alone
With his kid
To go fight in a war
That no one will know
Why it started
And when it may end
Just to pay the bills
Leaving behind his wife and kids
Sure we get phone calls
Every week
Daddy's emails helped
Him learn to read
He loves to talk to daddy
About what goes on in war
I try to tell Jameson
That war is a sensitive subject
That shouldn't be talked about
But he tries to convince me
That he is just preparing himself
To be just like his daddy
Getting ready now..
To go to war
But not before
He goes to basic training
To become an official Marine
My stomach hurts
When he brings becoming
A Marine up
Because I don't want my baby
To be out there
Getting shot at
And dodging bombs
I already have to worry
About my husband
Every night..
Not only do I pray for him
But I pray for Jameson
To forget his future dream
Maybe my husband
Can talk him out of it
When he comes home..
From this war
That took him away from us
*******************************
i am not easily guided
when i do not
ask to be led
i am stubborn
i like things my way
but heaven forbid
that i haven't a clue
i will call
the people i "talk" to most
and ask them
what shall i do?
i find it somewhat hard
to make a decision
without others input
if i plan on
being known
for what i do best
that means exposing
my flo..
further than here
and further than my notebooks
i will have to be edited
line breaks broke
someone else will HAVE
to give their input
altering my "babies"
and changing my works
i will have to come out
share my most important parts
expose the world
to my beating heart
my memoirs..
and my most intimate thoughts
breaking down the stigma
further than here
"Poetry Noir"
may be ready
but I don't know about me...
**************************************
So..I am going to school!!
I'm taking 18 credit hours..don't ask me why..but I am..I go to school everyday which I'm not too happy about..Gas is high, and the mileage is killing my truck...But nonetheless I am happy that I am getting closer to graduating. I have 12 more classes left..and however long it takes. I will finish!! I don't have any math this semester so I should be good.
Aesthetics
Writing for Digital Media
Research Methods
Writing for Mass media
Media and Culture
Media Studies....
A whole lot of writing..
I don't have any books so here is my plan. I hope it works until I get them or what not. I need to find a buddy. I'm guessing probably a boy. Girls hate too much.."Bitch please..fail".. I will convince him that I will do all of the reading and fill him in with great detail. But I need to be able to pick out the lazy boy who doesn't care. So wish me luck!! I don't have a plan B..this is all I got.
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