Setsuled's Journal

Bad writers are natural sadists. At least the ones in my city are.

I spent some time earlier to-day going through student submissions for my school's Acorn Review. I only got through about half of them before I finally had to stop, having begun to feel as though these people were shoving a dirty sock down my throat while trying to explain to me how necessary it was. And alls I could say was "Hmmmrmrrrrph!!"

Didn't do a whole lot of moving to-day. Did not, in fact, leave the house. At all. Pretty rare when that happens.

I lagged anyway on internet correspondences, choosing instead to spend most of my time on reading, writing, watching television and, oh yes, those miserable Acorn Review submissions.

Morrissey's right; “The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores”.

I think that's my favourite song at the moment. Whenever I hear it, I can feel the deepest reaches of my soul weeping, crying, "Yes! Oh, it's . . . true! Horribly true!"

Most people I meet in life are boring. Aggressively boring. Even some people who in the past I really respected. Some of these people have now grown up and are listening to Shania Twain and/or Kid Rock. Or are listening to Sheryl Crow and thinking they're being "outside the norm" by doing so.

Ack. It's past 2am, and I'm only just now starting to feel motivated . . .

And I only just now finished my morning cup of coffee. The incredible thing is, when I poured it, it was Tuesday morning.