I'm not particularly good at math; the fact that I hate the subject might have a bit of influence on my disgust for it all, but whatever. My first semester in college, I was turning out beautiful pieces of writing left and right, even my school papers were well written and all that was when I didn't have a math class. I'm taking math this semester, which just flat out sucks for me. At the start of the spring semester, I started writing a story and it just felt wrong all over.

I recently had a small four-day break from school and I decided to go home. The instant I get home, to a place without math class, I start writing this absolutely amazing story, which I think is one of my best pieces since I left high school. I pumped out twenty-three pages in three days; not my personal record, but still great. I get back to school, go to math class and then the wheels come to a grinding halt. I opened the document almost an hour ago and just stared at it... I have no idea what to write next and it's all math class' fault! I can't write anything! If you look at the beginning of the journal entry, you will see that is a very true statement.

So, when asked why I don't like math, I will no longer use that standard, clichéd responce of "I'm an artist: I don't do math." No, my new answer will be: "Math forces me to use the wrong side of my brain and all but shuts down my creative processes."

Now, this is not me looking for suggestions on my story; I already know what I'm going to do, I just need to get my head away from numbers and back into something creative. This whole rant is just that- a rant. I think I feel better now, so I'll try to write again. Thank you and good night.