:: filler (don't say I didn't warn you) ::

looking through some old notebooks, I came across quite a few little standalone paragraphs I've written. it kind of amused me, and I thought, for lack of better content, that I would include some here. on a personal note, I quit my job last week (which was rough, relationally) and it's been a difficult few days. anyway, my last day is this saturday, after which -- while I do have some summer plans -- my time will be remarkably freed up, and I can continue to pour out my abundance of thought on your unwilling heads. WOOOOO! bet you can't wait, right?

- - -

   I wouldn't make a good writer.
   I'm no good with interesting plots, I'm way too dramatic, and my heroes would all look like sydney carton. (that knocks out novels.) nor am I good at crazy, clever, unexpected plot twists; which knocks out short stories. I hate theses and dry, factual writing with supporting points and a bibliography -- I'm not destined to be an essayist or lecturer.
   and yet… in my opinion, which could be absolute crap for all I know, I'm not bad at quick scenes: a sketch of character, a short interaction, one occurrence in the life of a nameless man. honestly, I think this is because I've read enough to be able to vary my words until they flow, until they sound right -- I just lack the genius to use that as a tool to aid my imagination, and instead make it the end.
   which is fun.
   but gets me nowhere.

- - -

   they say that romance doesn't exist -- forever, anyway.
   they say that marriage isn't "romantic".
   "it's not all date nights and chocolates and red roses," they caution. "you'll still have clogged toilets to deal with when you're married!"
   but you know what? I'll plunge a clogged toilet for you any day.

- - -

   I have all these great, inspired ideas for poems, blog posts, short stories, and novels, which occur to me at precisely the wrong moment: sitting in church, just falling asleep, doing schoolwork…and then when I try to recall it, the inspiration -- sometimes even the idea -- slips away, leaving me dumbfounded, openmouthed, staring frustratedly at my empty hands and the veritable puff of dust on the horizon. that rapidly-vanishing puff was all my creativity, darnit.