A recurring theme that I’ve been working out (working with?) this semester is indecision. Indecision, decision and the lack of it. I chose indecision for my first paper, using the literal metaphor of Steven Page’s song, Indecision. My next post will actually be the final draft of that paper. Well, no. Not the final. The FINAL FINAL, in which I fix a couple of minor things. And, I may, post all SEVEN drafts, to show my evolution, or in some cases, regression as a writer. The only thing left out from the process would be my handwritten notes. I have no problem scanning and posting them, I’m just afraid of being committed once people see them. Because they make no sense. And anyone who thinks that a logical ANYTHING could be constructed from my half written jumbled nonsense is just as crazy as me.

I spent this entire week. THE ENTIRE WEEK. Working on two projects. Mid-way through outlining my first paragraph, I realized I no longer want to do the topic I had been working on. Since September.

Over the course of one sentence, one line. One line, comparing my first choice to, well what is now my topic.

Now, on to my second project, or as I shall call it, the thing that will (Harry Potter and Tangled aside) be ruling my entire life until December 8th.  I spent an entire week trying to come up with something good enough, something worthy, something I could really get my head around.  I didn’t get it until about oh, 9 O’clock last night (Amanda to me: Wait, You’re just NOW figuring out a topic?).


I’m fairly confident with my decision, I share my proposal, with my group partner, she gives me good feedback. I feel confident. Until.

One sentence completely threw my topic into question. AGAIN.

“Hey, Kev, this great book just came out about Decisions, I figured you might be thinking about using that as your topic.”



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