Thursday, December 3, 2009

oh, the books I could fill with these babies...

stupid customer: "Can I please have a ticket for Savvi?"

employee: "Excuse me?"

stupid customer: "Savvi?"

employee: "um...could you point to the movie you want?"

stupid customer ::points to Saw VI::

employee: "Uh, oh. You mean Saw VI?"

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

no thanks

I've been sitting with this keyboard perched on my lap for 20 minutes now. In that time I have typed 3 opening sentences to this entry, all of which were frantically deleted into oblivion. Fuck me.

I won't reduce my recent lack of productive writing to any conveniently packaged "writer's block." In truth, it's tied more to a state of being that I loathe more than Stephanie Meyers. (In all fairness, I've never read Twilight. I am actually just that much of a snob.)

It pains me to even bring up the word. It's so ugly. But if you have to know, I haven't been writing because I am so damn BORED. Phew. I haven't said that since the fourth grade. It feel so juvenile to admit to boredom at my age, which is why I'd never ever say it aloud. Can you imagine what that would sound like? A twenty-three old woman who is supposed to be starting out, enjoying everything life has to offer...and she's what? Bored?

But I am. Bored with Buffalo. Bored with babies. Bored with cold weather and facebook status updates and people who talk about their cell phones.

You see, boredom is a killer precisely because it allows you to see how empty your life really is.

But, I think, if you can get over the fact that your life is mostly empty (or that you see it as mostly empty) then you can make a change. So that you won't be so bored. And then you could be excited about life again. And then you could get back to writing. And writing, in any amount, might be enough to keep you in the game.