A Little While Later

I'm not trying to make up for six or so months worth of neglect by posting every hour. I am, however, bored.
Caitlyn didn't wake up so I did a runthrough of my flashcards and found I know about half of them. That's not to bad for a few hours of cramming. It's not too good, though, as I have to write a test an hour from now and I'm blogging instead of cramming.
I wrote a little more of my novel in the works. I'm quite pleased with it and I know that even with the impending headaches that will accompany National Novel Writing Month, I will not forget about my 44 and a half thousand word baby while I follow the rules and start over new to meet the 50k word mark. It'll be in my thoughts and in my dreams.
I know I talk about writing a lot, and most people who know me are either sick of hearing about how much I want to be a writer or are sick of me saying that I'm writing a novel and I won't let them read it, but I want to talk about it some more.
I have always wanted a structured outline - preferably something I could just print off the internet and insert character names and little tidbits of my own thoughts here and there - that would be the ideal because it would be so very easy. I scoured the internet for more hours than I wrote, sometimes, just looking for this thing that would make my life a breeze and let the control freak inside my brain take control.
I'm a contradiciton, I believe.
Creative and organized.
Touer says he can't write with an outline, says it boxes him in and stifles his creativity. I am just way to OCD to write without knowing what's going to happen in the next scene. I think it's because I've always needed that comfort of knowing what will happen next.
Like in life: I am spontaneous with my friends, but with my life, I like to be certain. I only took this Pharmacy Tech thing so I'd have a real income while I scribbled away in a notebook of ideas during breaks and at nights. And now I am paying the consequences of having learning come easy to me.
In high school I rarely studied and got average-good grades. That was with no effort. Most things came naturally to me, like English and Biology. Now I have to study up to thirty drug names in the course of two-three days (usually this means cramming the day of or night before the test) and do tests where I should actually care what the outcome is. But here's the problem: I am missing the gene that causes stress.
At least for academics, that is.
I think my brother got what should have been spread out over the five of us. Out of all of us, he is the most stressed, takes his schoolwork the most serious and is, unfortunately, a little high strung. The rest of us are mostly laid back.
I have the chronic inability to care about things.
For instance, when I was in Europe, I didn't really oooo and ahhh at the things I saw. Tammy did and I feel a little responsible for taking away some of the awe factor with my "crankiness" (I like to blame it on being a teenager, but I know the problem runs much, much deeper). I didn't care about Big Ben or the Vatican or anything in Venice, to be honest. The only time in Europe that I actually enjoyed was time spent in Paris. That could possibly be because it is the make-up capital of the world.
But whatevs... I've got issues. I should see a therapist, but until then, this near anonymous blog will do.