A Writer’s Creation

One B, one C, and one C-. I don’t even wanna see what GPA that amounts too. Once again, I find myself questioning, why the hell do I attend UCI? I want to be a high school English teacher, something that I can go to a state college for. Okay, so maybe I study at a UC for the UC-standard quality of education. But who am I kidding? It may be a prestigious education, but at the same time it’s one that I’ve all too often slept through, not just this quarter but also all throughout my first and second year.

I tell myself and try to believe that I’m meant to go to UCI for a reason, the only one I can deduce so far being to dance. And this quarter was exactly about that. Dancing, yes, this was a quarter for dancing I tell myself. My mom dropped $3975.75 so I could spend the last eleven weeks dancing. Something tells me I could’ve gone to an actual dance school for a hell lot cheaper price, one that wasn’t subjected to quarterly percentage increases. I could’ve actually studied this quarter. I could’ve not gone to UCI. I could’ve...done something else.

As I sit in my chair and brood over my grades, I reflect on all I’ve done this past fall quarter, both all the good things and all the bad things. Everything about this quarter: the grades, the dancing, the guys, the hook-ups, the friendships, the parents, and yes, the lies—everything is coming together in a way that I can hardly understand, but the one thing I do understand is that everything is coming together over a common denominator, one that has been there for years but whose presence I’ve only recently realized: blogging.

Through blogging, I’ve learned how to detach myself from the person I am and the things I have done. That person becomes a character, and I become his Writer. I’ve come to realize that that kind of detachment is dangerous.

What was I thinking the whole time when I was in that bathroom, getting my dick sucked by Shaun and Tyrone? Yes, I was thinking about Trung, but I was thinking about something else too. I was thinking, Damn, this is going to be an epic blog entry. My mind seriously buzzed with all the potential storylines I could produce from this god damn threesome. I really could’ve walked out of that threesome a lot sooner, but I told myself, no, the direction that this and the falling out that I’d definitely have with Linh would take my blog in a direction more suited for this season’s main focus: Lying. And that paved the way for my confession to Trung that I cheated on him five times and the ultimate reveal of why we broke up, a question that had been repeatedly brought up but left unanswered on this blog ever since it started. Before this blog ended, I knew the question had to be answered if I wanted that “perfect story,” and I knew something in the present would have to force the answer to the surface. I just wasn’t aware of when and what that present event would be until the threesome.

Essentially, the threesome had to happen—fated, not by a divine power that maintains the natural order to the cosmos, but rather, by myself as the Writer, who maintains the narrative coherence to the universe contained within my life’s so-called “literary narrative,” one in which I, as the character, am nothing more than the Writer’s creation: my words, actions, and motivations written to serve a higher purpose of conveying some kind of theme.

Is it all worth it, fulling this fate? I ask myself. Are the sacrifices worth making just to extrapolate every point of a theme?

No. The story isn’t worth it anymore. It’s time to quit.