Fuck.

So I really hate my major, but I have about a year left assuming I stop fucking up. If I switch to something that interests me more that one year turns into two.

And now I don't know when I'll get to see her next, but I'm really hoping its as soon as possible.

In a little over a weeks time I shall have minor surgery on my left knee. Delightfully this won't even be the last one I'll need in my lifetime ( Read more... )

I can't write anymore. I'm not depressed and I'm not angry. All I have is stress and that absolutely destroys the writing parts of my brain. If only unhappiness wasn't a prerequisite for artistic ability. Not being able to write is very frustrating.

I have been given the delightful opportunity to speak for five minutes in a public setting about whatever I please so long as it stays political. This comes at an especially wonderful time because I've been writing again. until recently I hadn't read Transmetropolitan all the way through and it never occurred to me how much better I like my writing ( Read more... )

Some days it feels like my brain is trying to escape out of the back of my head. This is usually accompanied by the feeling that I'm somehow not meant to be here. As if I got stuck and need to find a way to unfasten myself. I probably just need to start getting real sleep.

And lo the prodigal son did return *again* to the town of his birth.

I've left twice but Corvallis always pulls me back, and I think I'm grateful for that.

I had the weirdest thing happen to me, every now and then I'll hear a piece of music, or see something random that causes me to think of how I would use it in film, this came to me earlier in the car. I don't really know where it came from, but when it finished I was struck by a sudden rush of emotion that caught me off guard. I could see it all ( Read more... )

I hate the cycles I go through, I jeopardized three friendships in one shot because I don't like myself. I create imaginary hoops to jump through in order to make people like me, but it always comes crashing down around my head. So why do I do it? Why can't I just accept that sometimes people might just be my friends because of who I actually am? ( Read more... )