Writing

Sometimes when i think about myself, i think of myself as a writer. Then, a second later i worry if i am one at all, or if i just wish to be one because i think it fits. Sure, i have a lot of stuff i have written, but a lot of it isn't any good at all. There are two passable things i have ever written, and one of them i want desperately too rewrite, but worry all i will do is ruin it. I haven't written anything since summer, despite the fact that i have had nothing but free time. If i am a writer, shouldn't i have notebooks filled with words, instead of notebooks with several pages of words? What if i decide that i really want to do this, that i want to make my living with words, and then i realize that i can't really write at all? That when i get there, i am the worst at it, there are people who just jot stuff down in their free time that expose my writing as egotistical and childish? What happens when i love Wilco so much because the music and lyrics blend so perfectly together, and then when i turn around those same lyrics are the only ones in my head, nothing of my own comes at all? What happens when i read a recap of moments and thoughts i didn't see and don't care about, but the way she writes brings me back, almost daily for over two years? and then i when i follow her lead and build this site, all that i put up are things i already wrote, and worthless ramblings that should never see the light of a monitor? what happens when i remember that rhetorical questions are the crutch of a poor writer, who needs to make the reader feel involved but does not have the prose capability to do so? maybe then is when i go lay in my bed and read the catcher in the rye, and try to remember why i want to be a writer so much, maybe then i realize that i can only get better at this. Maybe, at some point, i will realize i should have gone into sales.

Fate

or chance, who knows?

What is an Hour?

An hour is the de facto way that we judge our lives. It can be the most precious thing we have, or an obstacle that must be overcome.

Dry Your Eyes, You Poor Devil

There were only 4 halloweens i could have experienced in college. Freshman year i fell in love, sophomore year was lame, junior year was rome and now i am sitting in my apt after watching three sub-par movies that i have already seen. I think i want to take a shower and make it to humps to catch the tail end of the festivities, but from all the potential, 1/4 isn't really all that good of a ratio, i'll try again later.