writer's block spurs blogging

*sigh* I should be going to bed, not staring at the 29 documents in a folder titled "unfinished poems." Some of them are from as far back as 2004. I've spend 4 years saying the same thing over and over again. Sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it doesn't. I've written 223 poems. Maybe 50 of them are actually presentable. I wish I could write about that ant crawling on my lamp -- the tiny being that brings me both fear and hatred -- but I can't. All I've ever written about successfully (like anything I've ever written has been successful) is love and depression. This sucks.

the sky is falling! the sky is falling!

So Fallon and I talked for a while at work tonight. I can't believe I'm actually sad that I'm quitting. Fallon, you suck for making me sad that I'm quitting. (Not that you're reading this or anything.)
Did I write about last night yet? Last night was fun. Me, Jon, Jose, and Ellexis.... Yeah, it was fun.
I feel like such a stalker. I look at all these people's Myspaces, but I never talk to them. gah, I suck. I need more e-guts. Of course, I can't talk to people in real life, why should I be able to talk to them online? OK. Online should be easier, and it is.... which sucks, too. I always say stupid stuff online that I would never say in real life. Of course, I say stupid stuff in real life all the time, too... which is why I don't talk. Ever. See? I have a plan.
(wow. I love blogging.)
(mo-blogging rocks even more.) (mostly just cause it's fun to say. "mo-blogging." aka. mobile blogging.)
(why am I talking in parentheses?)
I'm going now.