Just...Damn it.

One day up and another day down. Yesterday I couldn't think about anything other than writing. Today, I want to crawl in a hole and think of anything but.

Oh what a world, what a world.

People used to tell me the only way to get better at something was to surround yourself with those better than you. Those people obviously never wanted to be writers....want. Hmm.

I don't want to be a writer. I AM a writer. Got a paying gig and everything. So how come I always catch myself saying "want" like "I want to be a ballerina when I grow up." 

Maybe,because I still write in my p.j.'s.

I read some really great stuff today.  Damn it. I'm happy for the guy. I get excited for people when they get there. Just...damn it. Mean while, I'm drowning in a hoarder's nightmare of one-liners and snappy ideas that go nowhere and every time I try to grab hold of something concrete it crumbles under my weight.

 Too much weight. Not a big head. Just too many shoes in my bags, I guess.

Gotta say, I love when you can write incessantly about not being able to write. Mind you, I'm doing this strictly to avoid finishing the one act play I've been sitting on for who knows how long. I've got pages of dialogue written on paper. Just can't seem to get it on this dag nabbit contraption with out abusing my delete button. Pretty soon I think its going to start punching me back.

If you're reading this (and you know who you are) I am having a serious meltdown over this thing.
          (will retract after sufficient time has been allotted)

I think this is the part when I am supposed to light up a cigarette. Oh God, what I wouldn't give.