I just barly woke up and have been at work for 3 hours. I haven't really been paying attention to the news at all. I saw
Drudge this morning, nothing interested me to post about.
I actually had a thought about actually writing about growing up in South Philly. There really hasn't been a good book or even movie about growing up in SP.
Two Bits was ok but I think I'm the only person I know who has seen it. I'm such a terrible writer though, my college papers were so cluttered. After reading about
Homer Hickam's and
Augusten Burroughs lives in their memiors, I really want to write. If people are reading about their childhood I think people would read about mine. Not just mine but everyone in SP. I'm not that interesting to write 300 pages of stuff just about me.
I just can't sit down here and type away for hours. My mind is always thinking of 10 different things at once and all those things i'm thinking about are reminding me of other things. A shame cause I have some good stories too. Augusten just writes and writes all the time about everything in his life. I can't do that.
If only I had paid attention during english class and not passed notes to and daydreamed about Lauren, I would be a good writer. Which reminds me of Lauren, ugh. Ok time to feel sorry for myself about letting the love of my life go.
Oh well.