There's no such thing as a short story (in my world.)

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not able to tell a brief story; I feel the need to include background information and then perhaps background on the background info. And it just occurred to me: is my life really that much more complicated than everyone else’s? I have a hard time believing that. Why is it that Arlo Guthrie (arguably the greatest storyteller of all times) and I are the only ones who have these complicated, twisting and turning tales? So I want to throw out the request to everyone out there: include it all. I want to know all the details. While I may be the only one, I will pay attention and remember all that you tell me.

at least I'm writing, right?

Here it is, late at night, and I am beating myself up for not getting enough done this weekend. I really need to get out of my apartment if I want to get schoolwork done. Yet, in these moments great epiphanies can arrive.

I am practicing self-flagellation, which includes self-sabotage in the form of not going to bed at a reasonable hour thereby pissing even more time away that could be at least used to rest so that I can be productive tomorrow. I find myself wondering if I will ever figure out how to grow up, pondering about the nature of being a late bloomer and if this is necessarily a bad thing.

I might have also used this moment to see if an old crush was on fb. He is! Nothing like perspective to make you feel better about yourself! He lives on a boat and drinks beer (at least according to his self description.) Phew- I dodged a bullet. I might still be in school and immature (I prefer the term “childlike”) but at least I have made some type of progress in my life.

But let’s not start on “progress” (read: what the heck am I going to do 1. this summer and 2. upon graduation) as that leads me back to my downward spiral that prevents insight.

So begins my daily promise to myself: to attempt to create structure that supports me academically and emotionally. Wish me luck!

I can't help but wonder if my Dad is reading this, shaking his head. Most likely. Sorry, Dad. We can blame Mom. :)