Past Wishes

All the blogging that I have done recently has reminded me of why, when I was a child, I wanted to be a writer. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing the fruits of your labors, paragraphs and sentences, upon a printed page. Or, in my case, a web page. It's gratifying, feeling like you've actually accomplished something.

The only problem is that I am not a writer. I am not suited to be a writer. I'm not cohesive, and my ideas don't flow well. I have a hard time staying on topic, and my writing is full of digression. You know how you feel when you're a little kid and you draw a picture, then every one tells you that your picture is great and your mom hangs it on the fridge, but then you see it next to another picture and you realize that it really isn't that great and people were just lying to you to make you feel good about yourself? That's like me and writing.

I can tell that this day is going to be full of crap already. Work has been hectic already, I'm in a foul mood because I had to leave my bed, and the coffee place on campus only had French soda and not Italian soda. (Italian soda is light and crisp and made with sparkling water or something of the sort and a flavored syrup. French soda is a watery, milky concoction that resembles what would happen if you put water in your milkshake. It is also not carbonated, so it's not really a soda at all.)

I just hope that my lab experiment goes well. I cannot handle another botched Chemistry experiment. I love chemistry, but the hardest part for me is the lab because I'm always so nervous that I'm not doing it right. At least my lab partner is nice. Lubna has probably never said a mean word to anyone in her life. She's petite and intelligent and quiet. I like her very much.

At any rate, I'll write more later.