For some reason, the archived comments on my blog no longer work. That kind of pisses me off, since I do have them there for a reason – I like to go back from time to time and read them. There’s not much point in having people write them in the first place if they’re just going to get deleted. It’s hard to find good service these days, I guess.I…

Tuesday, October 15, 2002 11:43 My day sucked. I hate groups projects/papers. I’m tired. bitchmoanbitchmoanbitchmoan But really, all this is true. Let me tell you about it: I get up, and need to write not only my portion of my psych paper (which really is dependent on other peoples sections), but three out of four of the other group members’ section as well, because apparently they’ve dropped off the face…

Here’s the first assignment I had to do for the creative writing class. Keep in mind, this class is really all about pure, brutal honesty, so some of what you see me write here (but by no means all of it) may be more than you ever wanted to know. Oh yeah… dad, I know you read this occasionally, so I’ll be waiting for your email. Especially in light of…

So much to say, and so little time. I’m actually not writing this real-time… that’s how busy I am. I have to grab every little minute and use it for anything I can squeeze in. Actually, this time it’s because my internet connection has been prematurely cut off by A (we can do whatever we want) T (because we’re a huge corporation that has absolutely no sense of customer service)…

There’s a very good reason I haven’t written in a while, and it’s because I got a job. Now, before everyone goes and gets all excited, the reason I haven’t written isn’t because I’ve been working too much to write. No, it’s because the job sucks so bad that when I get home I don’t want to do anything except sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing. You see,…

I had kind of a strange dream the other night: When I was too young to remember, I was in an accident. It left my hand so mangled that I was forced to wear clamp-like devices to keep my fingers straight. I’d always been told that if I took them off, my fingers would once again grow crooked, and this had worked for most of my childhood life. But one day…

You can take the darkness from the pit of the night and turn it to a beacon burning endlessly bright. I gotta follow it, ’cause everything I know well it’s nothing ’till I give it to you. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Give what? Darkness… into… beacon? I guess Air Supply is just too deep for me. Move over Pink Floyd, now there’s something profoundier. I don’t…