Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Writing is easier when it’s already written.

I can’t seem to come up with anything worth writing at the moment, at least anything worth reading at a later moment. I’d blame it on writer’s block, but the truth is there’s nothing going on with my life to write about. I go to work. I eat. I go home. I sleep. And I defecate somewhere in between. That’s about it.

Since I can’t come up with something new, I thought I’d come up with something old. Here’s a random entry from my old high school English class journal, apparently the day after a big tornado when the teacher asked us to write about what we’d do if we were ever faced with one:

I miss those days. Back then I didn’t have a life either, but damn was I creative. The teacher would give us the most boring of topics to cover and I’d turn it into twisted, hilarious piece of crap.

Now all I ever come up is just crap.