Fiends revisited

I bought a new journal today. It's sitting next to my computer on the table, so pretty and crisp and black, and unspoiled. As some of you know, I'm a little of a journal writing fanatic. However, I've been feeling a bit restless of late. I'm tired of being a fanatic. I'm going to become a fiend. For the past long time, I've written a page in my journal each day. One page. No more. No less. While this works wonders for structure and habit, its also a bit restrictive. I have 21 lines to summarize what I've done that day, punctuated by my thoughts on the matter. Although I enjoy writing it, (I find it has a rather soothing, therapeutic effect) quite frankly, its rather boring to read. Now that I'm firmly entrenched in the habit, I think it's time to move on. I'm not going to set a rule for one page in this journal, and I'm not going to restrict writing to a pre-sleep activity. I'm going to write whatever, whenever, wherever. Wish me luck.

I've been reading lately. Reading novels, that is. I've quite obviously been reading textbooks, unless you're one of the many people who firmly believe I never do homework, in which case that is not quite obvious. But I rarely read for pleasure during the semester, as it tends to distract me from doing homework and such. However, as there is very little for me to be distracted from at the moment, reading has not been as much a problem as usual (Note: This is not to say I have little homework to be distracted from, merely that I do so little of it, its not really having much of an impact on my turnout). This brings me to another point. I need to do more homework. I really can't afford to do poorly in my classes, so I had better step it up a notch. Although I've always been a slacker and a procrastinator, I used to be a very good student. During high school, school (sadly) was my life. I never missed classes or handed in assignments late. I never once read Spark notes. I participated in class and never once caused trouble. I also didn't have a lot of fun. I'm starting to slip towards the opposite now, and it needs to stop. I believe that there is an attainable happy medium. I intend to find it and build myself a nice little shack, complete with hammock, warm sunny days, and those tasty drinks with the little umbrellas.

Sometimes I wonder if we learn to be perceptive of other people, or if its just more inherent in some people than others. Certainly I think we can improve upon what ability we have, but what if it's really not fair of us to be angry at someone for being blunt and tactless, simply because they were born that way? Maybe perception is like wine, and it gets better with age.

It's quiet in here.