I'll Write it all

Last day at Borders was today.  End of an era for me.  So sad that it had to end on such a sour note but oh well, life goes on right?  So that sucked, but on a positive note, college football returned today.  Oh how I love football, college and pro, and it always makes me feel so good knowing that football is back.  Especially since there was almost no pro football this year. 

Weekends like this one make me wish I had a shore house.  So many people are down the shore right now, grilling and enjoying the end of summer with their families.  It's always better at the beach. Maybe that'll be another addition to my wish-list, shore house.  Of course, I need a regular house first.  I could just buy my regular house close to the shore solving both problems.  In time I'll realize my full potential and make that paper so that I can buy whatever baller mansion I choose.  I'm really looking forward to sleep right now.  Kind of sad to say on a Saturday night but student teaching has really kicked my ass.  I've never wanted to get my eight hours moreso than this past week. 

I feel so stiff right now, like my writing is all forced unnatural.  I'm not liking it either, the words should just flow from me.  It sucks how a lack of energy combined with a mediocre day leads to poor writing.  Wine would probably help fuel a better product but sadly I have none right now.  Wouldn't that be cliche, seeing me sitting by a typewriter with a bottle of red at my side, in a dimly lit room that's barely furnished.  Hardwood floors with no rugs, one silly lop-sided painting on the wall that really doesn't make any sense, almost like someone gave it to me and I didn't know what to do except for put it up in my bedroom/study.  I imagine I'd be in jeans and an undershirt because when I lounge around the house I'm in jeans.  Lots of people prefer sweatpants or pajama pants but not this guy.  I actually find jeans comfortable.  The clock would read 1:45 a.m and I'd be scratching my head and beginning to pull out my hair over all of the drafts I'd started that ended up as paper balls near the trash can.  Here's where I'd break away from the cliche though, no ciggarette smoking.  Instead I'd do pushups and pullups to keep myself awake and sharp.  Sidenote:  funny how lately I haven't even enjoyed hookah or drinking, it's like my healthy lifestyle has made my body allergic to smoking and drinking (not that I did them often before but now it's very rare).  I wouldn't mind being the cliche struggling writer, as long as I was being published. 

Then again, maybe I'll just completely revolutionize that whole classic writer image.  I want to be really eclectic with my writing.  Novels, children's books, stand up comedy, plays, movie scripts, poems, short stories, flash fiction, movie reviews, sports reporting, and more that I don't feel like thinking about right now.  I want to do them all, I want to write in all of those forms and write well.  I've got to start getting a stand-up routine down so that I can make it to a comedy club soon and start to practice.  I like to think I'm a funny guy, and I know I have skin thick enough to take any boos and other forms of ridicule that would come my way from an unhappy crowd.  I'm starting to lose it, the Zs are coming for me.  No more brain strength, must go now before I pass out.  More tomorrow, hooray for long holiday weekend.