(no subject)
it's so much easier to twitter. i love lj, but when i'm at work it takes me about 2 hours to write one entry.
not much to say. I'm slowly slipping into a work specific depression. last week i almost lost it. i won't even say what happened...mainly because i think i already did. All i want to do is read. i suck at writing right now. i'm convinced it's all shit.
a new girl started at my job. She went to high school with me and my coworker's fiancee. So Veronica asked Marvin (her fiancee) if he remembered her. He said, "um...not really, but she was an offie, so I wouldn't remember her." I didn't want to say it, but it's true. I only remembered her cuz her name is weird. I remembered nothing about her personality and even when I saw her face I was like, "oh... so that's what you look like." I mean, I was an offie, but I'm glad people seem to remember who I was.
Charmane said something to me over vacation...you know, I still don't want to talk about it. It wasn't bad. It was... I'll just say it. She basically confirmed what I've always feared about myself: That I have all this potential with my writing but I make excuses. That I'm almost afraid of my success so I downplay my talent and think of reasons why something won't work before I even try it. I tell myself that no one will buy my book before it even goes on sale. I think of 800 reasons why something will fail and think way too hard. And here I am thinking I'm living my life and doing what needs to be done. Not living in fear, and yet... Here I am. Sitting here downing my writing.
But still...I don't mean to be all wah, wah, wah, nobody knows what it's like to be me, but...wah wah wah! you guys don't know what it's like to be me! I don't want to have some shitty book! I don't want to have a "black" novel about what it's like to be black in the hood. Or talking about racism to even get noticed by the New York Times. So yeah...perhaps I do make excuses. perhaps. most likely. definitely.
not much to say. I'm slowly slipping into a work specific depression. last week i almost lost it. i won't even say what happened...mainly because i think i already did. All i want to do is read. i suck at writing right now. i'm convinced it's all shit.
a new girl started at my job. She went to high school with me and my coworker's fiancee. So Veronica asked Marvin (her fiancee) if he remembered her. He said, "um...not really, but she was an offie, so I wouldn't remember her." I didn't want to say it, but it's true. I only remembered her cuz her name is weird. I remembered nothing about her personality and even when I saw her face I was like, "oh... so that's what you look like." I mean, I was an offie, but I'm glad people seem to remember who I was.
Charmane said something to me over vacation...you know, I still don't want to talk about it. It wasn't bad. It was... I'll just say it. She basically confirmed what I've always feared about myself: That I have all this potential with my writing but I make excuses. That I'm almost afraid of my success so I downplay my talent and think of reasons why something won't work before I even try it. I tell myself that no one will buy my book before it even goes on sale. I think of 800 reasons why something will fail and think way too hard. And here I am thinking I'm living my life and doing what needs to be done. Not living in fear, and yet... Here I am. Sitting here downing my writing.
But still...I don't mean to be all wah, wah, wah, nobody knows what it's like to be me, but...wah wah wah! you guys don't know what it's like to be me! I don't want to have some shitty book! I don't want to have a "black" novel about what it's like to be black in the hood. Or talking about racism to even get noticed by the New York Times. So yeah...perhaps I do make excuses. perhaps. most likely. definitely.