Rain Rain Go Away

This rain is killin' me. Such miserable stuff.

I went on a field trip to Barnes and Nobles this afternoon just to get out of the house. I read some of my book ('Straight Man', which is supposed to be funny but I'm not really laughing all that much yet. There's still time, I guess.) and did some writing. My Dad asked me recently if I still write a journal. I used to write much more, putting more stories in there, but now this blog is for the stories (much like the really awesome one I'm telling right now? I know, you want to tell all your friends about it, don't you!). My journal comes out when I need to empty myself of whatever's bothering me.

Although this hasn't always been true, I seem now to only write when I'm upset or irked. As a result I'll go months without opening it and then suddenly forty pages are full. I end up with pages and pages of excessive and repetitive ruminating and analyzing over things I can't do anything about.

I'm confident it will make for some really annoying reading some day. But today, for me, it's cathartic. At least for a while. The ink comes out and takes the weight with it. Until twenty five minutes pass and I have to vomit something else out of my brain. It's like I'm a Bulimic thinker.

Tonight will entail getting-up at certain intervals to turn the sump-pump in the basement on, or off, depending on what shift I get. I'm a bit sketched out about going down there in the middle of the night. If you don't hear from me in a few days, come looking.