SELF-LOATHING AND THE CREATIVE PROCESS

I hate everthing I write. That's a fact. I don't know why. I guess there's no reason for it. I mean, I know I'm not that bad of a writer, but frankly I think that everything I write is total and complete shit.

But I was thinking about it tonight, and I guess that's not altogether a bad thing. Maybe it just pushes me to try harder. Maybe it forces me to do my best with everything that I do so I don't crawl into a ball and weep incessently whenever I finish writing something. And that's probably a good thing right?

I guess all I'm saying is that Thursday I turned in a short story for my creative writing class, and I'm fairly convinced that it sucks. Oh well, worse things have happened.


COME HOME...GET STUNG

I came home today to find a wasp buzzing around the ceiling in the kitchen. It was no big deal. Truth be told we've had a pretty bad wasp problem since I was in junior high. I've probably killed somewhere around a hundred in the last few years.

But stepping in, watching it fly around, knowing that at any second it could sting the shit outta me...it just seemed fitting, and I have no idea why.


WHERE DID IT GO?

Earlier today I had about half a dozen things I was going to talk about. Now I got nothing. Sorry.


QUOTE

This has been stuck in my head for about a week:

"That's a pretty good kind of normal"

If you know what it's from, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, I'm sure you can guess.