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writing writing and practice naked:
an online struggle to write what
onland life can provide

06 - december - 2001 - thursday

[ short & nasty, again ]

12.06.2001 This is Writing Writing/Practice Naked (I'm not really naked). I choose a topic and write on that topic for no more than ten minutes. The only editing I do is for typos (I won't fix grammar, and sometimes, I won't even fix typos. As a matter of fact, you may occasionally come across unfinished sentences). This "non-editing" function does indeed have a purpose. I believe that raw writing is telling about the person writing. If I wrote in my practice notebooks at home with a pen, it isn't likely I'd go back to edit the text. So it is here. I may have a computer--but I'm trying to...shall we say..."keep it real." If you find the topic inspirational, I would love to post a link to your own rendition. Please email me your link. I think it'd be fantastic. Enjoy short and nasty, again, a journal subject heading picked randomly from a diaryland search. I did not read the entry, just searched for absolutely ever for a journal entry that was current and had a subject heading. Here goes. Dear Diary, I cannot stand that girl! She just pisses me off constantly as if it's her lot in life to go around butting her ditzy read head in my face and every other normal person's in the entire school. Why can't she just leave me alone? God, she acts like she's in second grade and I just don't need her drama anymore. Doesn't she have friends or something? If I were her mother or boyfriend, who I just think is a loser if you ask me. One of those wrestler types that had a scraggly goatee he probably draws on every morning with his mother mascara and eyeliner. Ew. Anyway, if I were her boyfriend I'd just die if had to look for her bouncing curls every morning. Ugh. I'm starting over. I didn't mean to act that way. I really didn't. I guess I just let my emotions get the best of me. I hate how I must look to all those people now. Dressed up in their Sunday best, ready to celebrate love and happiness and the future. I go walking in there like a wreck, my make up running down my face like a torrential rain. I should have taken my medication. I just knew it! I didn't think that I would get that emotional and even though Dr. Scott warned me that big events can cause me to "act out," I still thought I would have had it under control. Why don't I listen? Instead, I risk it and next thing you know, I'm being a short and nasty, all over again. Poor Bruce. He's probably a wreck because of me and his poor fiance Sarah is just overwhelmed. I'm lucky she was so nice to me though. I had promised them that I'd be okay and their smiles said they weren't expecting much. They hadn't even mentioned anything about my behavior! I was so happy they still invited me and wanted me to even carry the ring! But then I walked down that aisle and all those strangers were looking at me. I could hear their whispers, though Dr. Scott assures me they weren't really whispering. But I heard them nonetheless, wondering why my eyes look funny, why my hair is gone, why I'm smiling so strange. Blech. Not a good day (christen speaking). I'll try again later. My sister called me mid-stream.

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It is immoral not to tell. --Albert Camus