For Anybuddy Interested:

Monday, April 25th @ 7pm, my winterguard will be performing for the last time this season. If you are in the area and wanna check out what I spend the majority of my free time doing... holla at me over IM or email and I'll give you the details.

Hope to see some of you there.

How is it ...

That some writers are worshiped for showing their underbellies... while others are credited for hiding theirs? I guess we are celebrating the full spectrum of author vulnerability- writing for every author being such a different thing.

I wonder what it is, to me, exactly. Sometimes I write to escape. Sometimes to connect. Sometimes just to vent to that all-accepting blank page or screen without fear of backlash. Sometimes to feel intelligent; proud of myself. Sometimes to question everything I think to be truth. Sometimes to wallow in self pity, other times to brag. Sometimes to figure things out... to slow down the whirlwind of thoughts in my head and actually try and learn from them.

I fear that writing is not as intense an experience for some of the writers out there who make a hell of a lot more money doing it than I do. And who do a hell of a lot better job, too.

Those cold writers. Those matter-of-fact writers. Full of judgment and criticism... I hope their lives are not as distant as their words. Imagine living so alien to your own emotions. Is it really that some of us search for something - anything - that can be used to mask how we really feel?

Can we writers get so caught up in the masks of our own metaphors that we just perpetuate these dillusional bubbles that we create, live in, and casually refer to as our "comfort zone"?

This just isn't fun anymore.

I'm sick of fighting EVERY SINGLE TIME we talk. Sharing intimate moments with you, only to turn around and be hard-core rejected the next minute is NOT exactly the way to win me over. Either you want me or you don't, boss.

Make. Up. Your fucking mind.

You'll find that I can be an extraordinary friend. And a mind-blowing girlfriend. But only when I know which one I'm supposed to be.

Until then... don't be surprised when I am unsympathetic to your cause.

i have no idea what you are talking about.

I often refer to "falling in love with internet windows." Considering the lack of success I have had with this phenomenon... I must have subconsciously told myself that phone calls would be different.

My idealism's ability to mask stupidity never ceases to amaze me.