mychai's Diaryland Diary

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I was gayer than a two-dollar bill. And I just realized it.

Writer's block.

When I first started writing semi-seriously -- for example, when I wrote for a newspaper and actually got paid for it (albeit, not much) -- I would see fellow staff writers banging their heads on their computer monitors decrying the woes of the dreaded 'block. I would just look at their yanked out hair and think it to be a desperate cry for attention.

I am older. I am wiser.

I have been wracking my brain all day trying to think of decent and somewhat amusing things to write about from the past five frickin' days. A lot happened, and I can visualize what all happened.

But I think I have gotten cancer between my brain and my hands. Because something is blocking it from coming out.

What's worse is that I have a 15-page story that is due for my creative writing class tomorrow and I haven't a single clue YET what I am going to write about.

This. SUCKS.

So, to keep all of you entertained, I am going to copy over a journal entry I wrote for one of my very first English college courses. Remember, I was eighteen at the time, and pretty much a big dork. This is so very embarrassing, I can't believe I am posting it for all to see.

But, for those of you who have never been through English Comp. II., here is what happens: the teacher gives you many different topics, and you write two pages on each topic.

At least, that's how it was done in my class. The teach should have given me an 'F' for "friggin dork-o-rama." I hope you enjoy.

Oh. And excuse the obvious grammar and spelling problems. I was 18. I was more interested in boobs.

Yeah, yeah. What's different?


Write About You

It's weird.

The person that it seems that you should know the most, you really end up knowing the least. For most people, it seems that they have problems writing about themselves, but for me, it is not that difficult. For one reason, I have spent time to actually think of whom I am. Is this weird? Egotistical? Nah -- I don't think so. I believe that it is normal -- healthy, even -- to search and discover who you really are.

"Write about you..." There are unlimited things that I could write about that deals with who I am. I could mention every "A-T C-G" gene in my body. But, I don't have 58,000,000 spaces to write on. Then I could maybe write about my taste in clothes. But they change along with my moods, so I would probably contradict myself several times. No. If I am to write about myself, it will be the part of me that, in my humble opinion, is the most important.

I like to smile. <JP Sidenote:gawd, this is so gay!> My philosophy is that life doesn't suck, certain situations do. If you stop and look at most bad situations, you can easily find that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Besides, smiling is not only good for my mental and physical health, it makes everyone around me seem like they feel better.<JP Sidenote:I was like Mr. Fucking Rogers.>

I don't think that I am conceited or egotistical, but I believe that I have enough "smarts" to know certain things about myself. I do believe that I am an attractive young man. <JP Sidenote:someone jab a spear through my ears!> I am shorter than most guys my age, but I take that in a mindset that it is a good thing to be different. <JP Sidenote:I mean, really... Dirk Diggler was different, right?> I like to think that I am an intellectual who is not only book smart, but also common sense smart too. I believe I can take small amounts of evidence and milk it for everything it is worth. <JP Sidenote:Now I am Sherlock Fucking Holmes.>

I don't really like loud "Rock" music, although some of the songs are pretty decent. It does get on my nerves after a while. I prefer music with no words. <JP Sidenote:I'm beginning to understand why 70% of my classmates thought I was gay> I believe music, by itself, can tell stories. No need to ruin that story with words. But some jazz words add to the overall meaning. I am beginning to "dig" <JP Sidenote:yes, I said dig> jazz. It holds a hidden treasure that, in the past, I never found.

I am a hopeless romantic. <JP Sidenote:oh, good lord> I love romantic walks, and I believe in giving flowers and reading poems and singings songs. Most girls say that "it shouldn't be hard for you to find a girlfriend." "So, do you wanna go out with me sometime, then," I will ask. "No. I only like you as a good friend." Remember. Life doesn't suck, situations do. Life doesn't suck, situations do. Life doesn't-- aw, screw it.

I am an old-fashioned type of guy. I like old fashioned clothes. I wish it would go back to when everyone would wear top hats and suits whenever they left their house. <JP Sidenote:this was before I found it easier to go grab lunch across the street in my pajamas>

Well, that is a small taste of who I am. It is not barely everything about me, but it is close enough. It is what I would put in a singles ad! <JP Sidenote:And he remained unhappily single ever after.>


Oh, good heavens. That was terrible.

If that wasn't enough to launch me head first out of writers block and into straightsville, then I don't know what would. I'm glad I grew out of that stage.

My best guy friend -- the guy I would most closely call a brother -- still calls me Gaywad and Homo the Great. I now understand clearly why. Thank you, Marcus, for pointing out the obvious.


And finally...

For all of the Jewish brothas in da house, I have included a daily updating menorah that will be lit at sundown my time every evening.

10:03 p.m. - Sun., Dec. 1, 2002

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