It's an odd time of day to be writing in here; 3:33, not much has happened, really. I cleaned my room. And when I finished with that, I sat down to try to make some headway in this "getting published" bit. I didn't get very far before realizing that researching--reading about the steps, the likelihood, the work--was beginnig to deflate my enthusiasm. I used to write a tremendous amount as a child. Even in my earlier years of high school I wrote more poetry than you could ever imagine. Sadly, that poetry was posted on a website and I never got around to saving much of it. On the other hand, not much of it was honestly worth saving. And here comes my dilemma. I wrote a lot when I was younger, but because I was younger, its rating of qaulity has depreciated tremendously as I've matured. These days I don't write much. Sure, I journal most every day, but if you've noticed my weak and rather forced attempts at poetry, well, I'll be the first to admit they're nothing to be impressed by. I guess I can't get away from asking, Have I lost it? When did I make the complete transition from writer to photographer, and are my chances of success with this greater? In truth, it doesn't really matter. I still love writing and I am absolutely enamoured with my new camera and its posibilities. I think it's just the truth of college again--the awakening that graduation is yet again looming around the bend and I can't just enroll in another school after that, I have to be walking into the workplace and I am so afraid of what that's going to be like, where it's going to be. As a child, I took such pleasure from writing because I was always doing it for me and I figured, if it was what I was destined to do, well then Fate would find me and becoming successful would become an act of destined fortune. But now, 19 years old, the idea of succeeding is...tiresome. It's not a matter of sitting down and getting something completed and polished up--it's a chore, a job! Exactly what I never wanted my passion to become. And perhaps it doesn't have to be that way. Suppose I clean off my desk completely, take the night off from life and just return to my old (young) self. Well, of course that's not easy to do either, and for various reasons. Foremost, I never have a night to my self these days. There is always something going on, always someone to be with. And secondly, I can't plan inspiration. Inspiration is my friend and foe, coming whenever she damned well feels like it and never staying long enough to keep the room lit with that brilliant idea she gives me. Np; I write with a flashlight, attracting moths and trying painfully to ignore the buz of reality. I think...once I really get out there with my camera I'll be okay again; optimistic, fresh. I hope. I need to get one ASU's website. I think my schedule for next semester is in need of some revision... Carrie