Boredom Block

Any of you use myspace? Probably, I know it was the weed to my drug problem I call the internet, a gateway site. Well, anyway, you know those "Need a Girlfriend?" adds? The ones with the hot young girl, doing nothing but looking like a hot young girl. Yeah, those ones. Those adds are fantastic. Whoever does the casting for those photos in awesome.

All the girls used are so fucking typical, they look just like all your friends, only hotter. She looks just like that girl you met at the bar the other night, or at least what your beer goggles told you she looked like. Chances are when you look at the add, you see the girl and it looks just like whatshername, only kind of better(probably only because shes just a photo on the internet, and therefore less annoying).

I'm really only blogging to get some words out. I went to write something (not a blog) and it just wouldn't come out. I more or less have the idea, I know what I want to write, it's just not happening. How I wrote before was different, something come to me very all of the sudden, usually last minute, and I would just sit down and write pages and pages in not time at all, and then go back and edit it later. I ALWAYS wrote better under pressure. Maybe it's the lack of due dates and assignments that's slowing me down. Maybe it's just that I can't take what someone tells me to write so loosely that it hardly even counts, but then, oh, it still does.

I had a Writers of Maine(it's a state) class once, and the teacher told us to write about what wilderness meant to us. This was right around the time I no longer saw trees as living things, but objects to hang myself from(I didn't write about that). So I wrote about New York, and sidewalks, four lane roads, brick buildings, carfully constructed concrete, all the busy people, blah blah blah. I wrote about how I had grown so sick of my surroundings and my idea of wilderness had changed to the city. The only time I mentioned actual plants and green things was during the part detailing the change of scenery that took place on the bus ride out of Maine. My teahcer hated it, completely. Told me I missed the point, and basically did it wrong. Meaning, I didn't write about how beautiful the foot and a half of snow outside was. But I argued my point, which was more or less a verbal bulleted list of the main points that my paper shared in detail. She gave me a good grade, but I think she disliked me as a person from that point on. I was pleased with myself.

I think I'll read now.