Why is it so hard to come up with a good story idea?
It is (OR IS IT?) interesting how much tree branches remind me of veins?
When will I get 'em back? And/Or Why can't it be mine?
What should I be sorry for? Apologize for?
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, what happened?! Where did it (we?us?) all go?
Is taking a stand sometimes just as bad as not?Whatever ( Read more... )

As the rest of the class stares diligently at the board, watching the professor wave her marker arcoss the damn thing as they nod and make trite comparisons of Virginia Woolf to Ford Madox Ford("there is a much greater concern for the role of women!"), I am sitting somewhere in the back of the class, picking out each person and trying to determine ( Read more... )

Every week, Marilyn vos Savant - the woman with the Guiness Record of having the world's highest IQ - does a fun, little Q&A column for the Sunday paper's Parade magazine (also known for comic strips like Howard Huge, which make Marmaduke look like Clowes), and readers try to stump the so called "smartest woman in the world". Before I go any ( Read more... )

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There's a pattern to my sleeping in that I'm not doing much of it. I could blame it on the pressures of everyday life, but we all know the real reason: demons! Thanks to Mr. Tom Cruise and the Church of Scientology, I am now aware that psychiatry is a psuedo-science, much like how Dane Cook is a psuedo comedian (there's nothing funny about trying ( Read more... )

Sometimes, sometimes, I will have an imperishable yearning to write but - what's this? I am often without a thing to say. Most of my writing feels, to me, like small talk. "Oh how is the weather here, you ask? It's shitty. So did you hear about this or that? Isn't it interesting?" My life, as it occurs, is just fine and yet my brain, as it works, ( Read more... )

Is it weird that I can't wait for school to start again?

I think it is. Now that I'm an adult, I don't have much reason to enjoy the summer anymore. It'd be unfair to blame this pleasant town for my dog-day depression, yet no where else do I hate being awake as much.
And let me tell you: I've been loathing the idea of extancy as of late.

So, this is it. I'm 20 years old. I've got to say, being a teenager had it's ups and downs - but that's because I learned how to masturbate later than most kids ( Read more... )

I think my id, ego, and superego are all pricks.

* * *I've got a small tin journal that hasn't much writing in it. I fear self-documentation like I fear the annual check-up at the physician. You can't hide the truth for long under vague poetry, just as cancer finds its way outside underneath the skin. I stare at the pages, mostly littered with ( Read more... )

Saturday afternoon, I had to take my mother with me on the way to work in order to drop her off at the Saturn dealership to pick up her car. I made it a point to leave at once, heading out the driveway nearly an hour before my shift began. Were I not so sensitive to prudency, I could have made it in time for my shift had I left a half hour before, ( Read more... )