Eric and the Nonsense
Note: I am reposting this to fourwords.net on May 11, 2016 after some quick editing for grammar. The original posting was October 20, 2011 and can be found here if that interests you for any reason.
This week started out so well. I was in a great mood, which was probably not readily apparent to anyone else around me, but I could feel it, and that’s all that matters. This great week turned to a bunch of suck yesterday, and I’m not entirely clear on why. I’m an emotional wreck, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m pregnant, oh wait that’s not possible, I’m on the pill. I feel like I need to curl up in a ball and cry. That’s not very manly, is it? But I suppose neither is being pregnant. I’m listening to Ben Folds on repeat because for some reason depressing music always makes me happy in a weird depressing sort of way (don’t worry, I didn’t understand what I just wrote either).
On Sunday I was sitting in church thinking about how I’ve already written everything I know. That I probably won’t ever write any fiction because every idea I’ve ever had has already been done (and done better than I would do it at that). Then I started thinking of some new ideas I could write about (nonfiction of course). I came up with a bunch of topics like social anxiety, ADD, tithing, visions, prophecies, office supplies, OCDs and music. I was very excited about writing. I started taking short notes on the topics so that I wouldn’t forget them like I usually do. I guess writing them down is like letting them go from my brain, because I lost the urge to flesh them out. Then Monday that hilariously embarrassing thing happened to me and I was inspired to write. That was the funniest thing I think I’ve ever written so I should probably quit now while I’m ahead (unless you count this, which in my opinion puts me back down a few points).
It’s not cool to be concerned with how many people read your stuff or how many page views you get, but I never claimed to be cool. I probably check this site at least 20 times a day. I know it’s sad, and I try not to think about who might read this when I’m writing it because, again, it is for me, but I still care and that’s not cool.
Okay, the point is that I want to be a writer, but I’m a neurotic mess, and also, for some reason, my week turned to suck all because my computer and iTunes don’t seem to get along with each other. It lost all of my music and apps even though they are still there. I need a Mac. I’m going to try to start working on those other posts even if I don’t feel like it. Bye
P.S. If anyone wants to buy a kidney from me so that I can afford a Mac let me know.
P.P.S. If it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile then why does smiling hurt my face so much?