It’s been a while. I simply vanished for a month, didn’t I? Where was I, you ask?

Well, long story short, I checked out of the world for a while after failing to complete the “Nightmare Paper” for school. My usual habits of procrastinating but not worrying because I usually write at the last minute came back and bit me in the ass. Sadly, I was forced to call the time of death on the paper. As a result, I didn’t pass, which means I did not qualify for graduation for the Winter of 2012.

How did this happen? Well, many factors, all of which are my fault. Too much partying. Too much video games. Too much Television. Not enough actual work. By the time I figured out what I was actually supposed to be doing, it was far too late.

I’m a prideful sort, too. Still am. I refuse help because I hate being helped when I’m more than capable. This has always been a problem for me. After I failed the semester (well, 50% of it. Still passed the fun class), I had to deal with wave after wave of familial support. Ah, I love them all, but they don’t realize what they do. Every question they have about my well-being does the opposite for me. “Are you doing OK?” makes me paranoid, ending that sentence with “Because we’re not surprised if you’re not” in my head. Reassurances are translated into pity comfort. I get angry. Every ounce of help they offer is countered with spit and fire as I tell them that all I want is to be left alone for a while. They even thought I was depressed (well, I was, but I got over it after a few days). I love them, but I cope with my failures differently. Everything they do to comfort me just reminds me of what I did, and I know better than they ever will about my paper-fail.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy that I have these people in my life that will help me if something bad happens to me that is out of my control. I will gladly seek their help if I need it. But outside help is the last thing I need right now. If anything, I needed the failure to happen to punch me in the gut and let me realize that I’m not indestructible. I took the failure, and reassessed my life, and set off on a new path. I got a flat on the road to my future, but I had a spare tire at least.

Failure is just another form of rejection. This is very important to learn. If you can not deal with rejection, you can not be a writer. It’s one of the worst parts of writing, if you ask me. To have someone say “This isn’t good enough” can destroy you. You get anxious. You question everything. Your self-esteem plummets and you sink further into a hole of shame and misery and honestly think about giving up. OR. You say “eh, they’re idiots” and you keep going and try again. That’s what failure is. I was rejected by the paper, so I’ll just try again.

So what am I doing now?

Well, I registered for the “Nightmare Paper” again. I will NOT let some scumbag of a research paper ruin my life. You hear me, Capstone (yes, that’s the class)? I’m coming for you. And nothing will save you.

I also have to register for another class, but I’ll figure something out.

I’ll work on the blog a bit more. I got neglectful and didn’t write AT ALL after the last post, so I’ll step it up a notch.

I will FINISH that story. I’ll start to bring you on-board as more and more progress is made in it. I’m always wary about posting about my work though. My paranoia still gets to me about someone stealing my stories (almost flattering, really), but I’ll try to get better and show you people that I actually DO write things.

Anyway, Happy New Year. I’ll see you soon.