Sometimes I find it very sad that I going to bed by 10:30 or 11 on Friday nights and getting up at 8 a.m. or 9 a.m. This used to be a non-existent pattern in my life, as in it never happened. However, college is over and adult life has set in. I now consider 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. regular times to get up, but the idea that they are "early morning" is still drilled into my head.So as of right now, I have been awake for almost 40 minutes, and I am sitting here enjoying the fresh, full, "awake" feeling of a full breath of air being sucked into my expanding lungs. My bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats was delicious, and I am contentedly...
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The tipsy time.
Yes, I've had a few drinks tonight and maybe that's why I've realized I need to write more. Funny how that works, huh? At least I can type and use correct grammar.I may as well shoot myself at this point because I always say I should write more and then I never do. It's pointless rambling.I think I need inspiration, something hard to come by for me in Northwest Iow...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The thirtieth post.
This is my thirtieth post. That's right, thirtieth. The big 30th.Not that that's a big number. I just want to give myself a small pat on the back for actually blogging more than I ever have in the past, even if it is rather sparse and unphilosophical.I also want to post this blog to give myself not just a pat on the back but a kick in the pants, a reminder to get off my lazy ass sometimes and actually write. Write like I used to, free and without concern as to what other people might think of my thoughts, ideas, stories, and other literary endeavours.And my ridiculously Anglophilic obsession with British spellin...
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The aching of my heart.
I haven't written in a while. Sadly, it seems like that's what I always say when I start a new post.Sometimes I wish I was one of those really good writers. You know, the kind who were bi-polar or depressed all the time, because despite their very serious ailments, they wrote some of the most beautiful fiction and non-fiction of all time. Sometimes I realize I could very easily turn into one of these types of writers, and that both deeply satisfies and terrifies me.When I get upset or angry or depressed, I seem to be attacked by whatever emotion is currently in my system, and then it threatens to take over. Sometimes...
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