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I'm feeling
Like I want to go back to bed.

Yeah -- and I usually hope I'll wake up early.

Lev and I have decided that we need to help each other out; I think he means motivation. I asked him, and he says he'd rather that I keep being honest to him. This might be part of why he's not talking to Cherish much, she's fond of trying to tell him what she thinks he wants to hear. Maybe they'll get back in to talking, with her acting a little more normal lately. My theory is that either she had a little downturn before, or, she's back on her meds.

Ah.. spring. Gotta love spring; I keep getting nosebleeds from all the sneezing I'm already doing. I've lost faith in the neti-pot. It irritates my nose more than it helps. I think I'm angling wrong, or something.

At least this isn't 2-3 PM. I hate waking up that late. Makes me feel useless. It's not like a few years ago, when I was up til 10 AM, sleeping til 6 PM. At that point, I was easily self-entertained, and had Cherish to phone all night. I'm fritzy if I don't get out of the house often, now. If I don't hear an unrecorded voice. If I'm bored.

Fuck being upset. I'm always upset.

So -- opened a new story site. No reason, just felt like it. So far, of the 3 stories up, I only really like the second one. More for the phrasing, than plot, though. My plots are getting pretty weak. They always seem to have a "hoohh -- shitty ending!" twist. Take "Wonderful" for example -- "oh yay, I used to have this wonderful old neighbor, she gave out candy. By the way, she's dead now." It's sad to think that I can sum a 500-600 short story in that brief a summary. "Wonderful" was partly based on an old gal who lived down in my old trailer park. The ending was completely pulled from my ass.

The 'good' one, "Complicated", has a really weak premise. 24-year old McKade is having a crisis of being, trying to find a little spirituality. Pulled likely from my disdain for celestial shit, McKade fails to find enlightenment. Cue required drunk character. What's with me and drunks?

The first of the pile, "A Bird" is a little usual. Same "what a twist!" ending. I swear, I'm so predictable. Crazy chick is sitting in a room with a dead parrot and her dead mother, presumably whom have died of natural causes. If I were to guess, I'd say Mother died in her sleep/had a stroke, and Ted the parrot died because Mother was the one who feeds him. Basically, our unnamed narrator is gabbing at them. This one started kind of as a self-experience piece. I just pulled a random thought, and ran with it. The thought being, "Man, I'm on a lot of pills."

I imagine I'll be writing a fair bit more. I just seem to be randomly improving on those kinds of grounds. Now, whether or not this means I'll actually look for a job, I'm unsure.

I'm still a little nervy about trying to find a job when I'm still "not all here". Everyone always says, "Well -- you're wayyy better than you were last year, [Lambert]!" in response to the previous sentiment. Yeah -- most times I have coherent thinking. I seem to have traded normal insanity for depression. Yup -- I'm not normal-rambling, I'm moping now. Introversion at its core: The Self-Discovery Roadtrip. Ho-cha.

Maybe it's just me: this shit never ends.

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*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

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Circa 2010