Why is it that when it rains, I don't feel like cleaning? Somehow the outside weather dictates my ability to function within my apartment (while at the same time, holding me prisoner inside).
I tried to write today. By hand. I managed about 10 pages. The computer can get tedious after spending all day every day staring at a screen. I have the horrible habit of turning every piece of dialogue into rejected-Gilmore Girl diatribe.
So now I'm eating dark chocolate and trying to find something on TV that mildly entertains me. Pretty in Pink is on, but I only find it depressing. She takes a pretty dress, transforms it into a shower curtain-looking montrosity and still gets the guy. I looked pretty good at prom, and got no one. Someone at university said I looked like Molly Ringwald. Haven't figured that one out yet, but I've decided to take it as a compliment. Now, where is my Andrew McCarthy?
Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.
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1 comment:
you'll have to find a outdoor cafe to write at now that the warmer weather is here / on it's way
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