Years ago, I used to enjoy writing short fiction and some creative non-fiction stories. It was a big hobby of mine, and a nice way for a shy and awkward teenager to escape to horrible world of the suburbs. Now, years later...I just feel like I can't do it. I can't even write a line or two without getting bored and looking at what I read and seeing a bunch of garbage. I wasted my college years majoring in Literature when I should have majored in Business, Marketing, or Communications. Or Nursing. Or SOMETHING ELSE. I had zero motivation and ambition after my mother died. And after my father died first, I really lost my support system. Dad always said he was my biggest fan, and he really meant it, too. I remember the least concert I sang in at elementary school, in late spring 1994. He was only a few months away from dying, but you never would have known it. He looked healthy and alive.

Anyway, I remember he stood up halfway and waved his arms in the air, and I smiled back and gave him a little wave. He was so geniune and happy, and smiled his big, wonderful smile. I miss him a lot, still, but my memories of him stop at age 12. It's not easy to carry those memories with you into adulthood. They start to fade away and turn into sad recollections.

Wouldn't everyone love to write a book about their fucked up childhoods and adolescence, about all the assholes who wronged them and treated them like shit, and have it published, and turned into a major bestseller? Then all of those same douche mongers could read them and take a metaphorical punch to the solar plexus. I need to push it and create something great, I have a lot of good material, but putting it into a semi-fictional story is tough to do. I'm not good at writing witty dialogue.
It turnes into mish-mash fiddle faddle.

I was going to go into the city today but just couldn't dredge up the energy. I had a slight nightmare last night anyway with too many bugs. I'm sick of it. My landlord never mentioned that there is a slight roach issue in this building. I really want to move, like, now. Out of Oakland, and out of California. Fucking forever, kiss it goodbye for the last time.