July 22, 2005

• the worst post of my life

  
  

  Have you ever had something to actually write about, but when you try nothing comes out? You have all these characters and plots and ideas and themes, and still.. nothing. You can get the basics, but not the details. You can get small phrases here and there but never bigger ones or chapters. The harder you try, the more difficult becomes to write it. I desire to write about something, but I cannot seem to. I try, I try, I fucking try. Every day I try to pen my thoughts, but all that comes out is blurbs of words that make no sense at all, or are so simple and juvenile it makes me look like an ignorant fool. I carry that damn notebook with me all day, every day.. hoping that at a prime moment I can write something that will inspire the rest of it.

  
  

  All I can write right now is what I am feeling inside – which most of my writing comes from anyways – and at the current moment, I feel very torn and downtrodden and those types of posts are getting rather repetitive and annoying.

  
  

  Whatever.

  
  

  We have this picture in my kitchen of the seniors from my sister’s soccer team in this pyramid, but someone obviously used Photoshop or something on the picture for some unknown reason, flipping the picture so the school name on their shirts are backwards. Every time I see it, I get pissed off. It’s a cute picture, besides that.

  
  

  I have 605 songs on my iPod. Yeah, I’m cool. Admit it.

  
  

  This is a dumb post; why am I still here? I have nothing better to do right now, actually. Besides finish the fourth Harry Potter book, but it is like four hundred thousand pages anyways.

  
  

  I was talking to someone the other day and told them that I hide behind a mask. Their response? “It’s a beautiful mask.” I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be flattered, or what. Meh.

  
  

  Every time I say “meh”, I feel like an “emo” kid. Save me.

  
  

  The post really does suck. I have nothing to say besides that work is consuming me, killing me, boring me, and if I ever had a boyfriend with the same personality as this one kid at work, I would be in complete and total love.

  
  

  My foot still fucking hurts. And now my toes are bruising. Sick.

  
  

  For some reason, I really enjoy the word clandestine. Like, The clandestine writings were passed around the group acting as if they were delicate, age-old findings – something to be treasured and coveted. I don’t know.

  
  

  Maybe I’ll write something later, who knows. I still feel downtrodden.

  
  

  -Kate
  

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  I just found the BEST summer job ever for next summer. It is in Pennsylvania. I emailed them for the application; it is a pretty sweet deal. I hope that I get the job (because it is fucking sweeeeet).

  • 10:37 pm
  • 4 Comments