Are you a Blanche or a Stella?

I am a senior about to leave for college and I know what I want to do with my life (what a nice feeling). I have submitted 9 college apps thus far and it has become apparent that I am going to major in English, where ever I may end up. I think I need practice in "my expression" of thoughts and blogging may end up being the best mode of expression for me as my handwriting has gone down the tubes/sheer laziness/I can facebook and listen to music at the same time. Lovely.

Right now I am working on my 10th college app (G-town) and multi-tasking on a Streetcar Named Desire paper as well. Here it is: am I a Blanche or a Stella?

There is no doubt in my mind that I am a Blanche. White Forest. My name means Water Door. My thoughts are anti-coherent but trust me there is a rhythm although the rhyme may seem convoluted to others. I have soft thoughts, I am a soft person, I need safe harbors. I am impractical, Stella makes practical sacrifices.

Last night I was at China Walls. A hidden cliffside on the outskirts of an expensive neighborhood. Here people smoke pot, drink classy beverages, catch morray eels, and surf parallel to the cliffs. Last night I sat between twin palm trees and the stars; white pinpricks, holes in the black velvet, they are mistakes in the black. Here my soft thoughts, scattered, connected by loose spider threads played out across the undulating purple-black ocean. I am a Blanche.