So. We all have those things in life that we wish we would have learned at a young age when our minds are all malleable and what not that we didn’t. For me, playing a musical instrument has always been one of them. I’ve always wanted to learn the piano, but having severe ADHD, sitting down and actually practicing was a no go. Same went for my attempts at both flute and guitar. This last one is particularly sad because my parents actually got me a flute (I played in high school if you can call it playing) and a guitar for Christmas one year. I learned a few chords, got frustrated at how shitty it sounded, and promptly stopped.

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Photo CC by BirgerKing 

Well. Aforementioned stupid boyfriend happens to be very good at guitar, and fairly patient if he’s well-fed and I’m not being a dick nugget, so I have a chance at learning the guitar. Particularly if it’s homework for me. I’ll have to do it. Well. I won’t have to, but the chances of me actually doing it are exponentially increased. SO. That is indeed an option for this learn something for two hours a week thing.

HOWEVER, I don’t think that I’d be very good at guitar practicing for a measly two hours a week. There was oooooone other option for me to figure out what the hell it is that I want to do.

I WANT TO GAIN THE POWER OF THE PEN.

Once again, this is something I picked up as a kid. I looooove/d to read, so I did that all the time. But I also loved the thought of being God. So I became she every time I wrote. Problem was….none of it was very good. At all. I still have the stuff that didn’t get destroyed, and it’s still pretty bad.

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Photo Copyrighted by Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment 

Yeah. Like Twilight bad, minus the shitty romance and sparkly vampires.

Stupid aforementioned boyfriend is also a lot smarter than me (ironic, eh?) and a published author. Before this class, he agreed to help teach me for both things, and has been trying to get me to write for Siren’s Call. However, I’m smart enough to acknowledge that all my writing is shitty and dumb enough to not be able to improve, so we are at an impasse. With the help of aforementioned stupid boyfriend, I will get better at writing, as that is what I have decided I want to do.

We will (hopefully) accomplish this nigh impossible task via writing exercises and the possibility of getting yours truly possibly published, if I do manage to get a little bit better.

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