March 7th, 2002


Grrrah! Madness!

I am in a state. A state of... dysfunction? Yes, that'll do nicely.

I'm. Still. Mad. At. The. School. Newspaper. Not only for not allowing me to do cartoons, but also for turning out really shitty, misinformed articles. They had a whole center spread on divorce and what was it filled with? Drivel. Non-journalistic sap and sentimental crap. Mostly written by Anya. Oh Anya. Just go away.

I want to write a letter. I want to say what I think, I really do. Because my parents got divorced when I was three. Yes. And do you know how horribly dull it is for me to hear other peoples' sob stories? Incredibly, horrendously dull. Oh, for the love of Bob, I just can't take it! I want to rip out my hair and stick out my tongue at these high school students producing this self-absorbed shit.

Speaking of self-absorbed shit... "Perception". Ha. "Perception" is another one of our school's lovely publications, an erratic creative arts magazine that is lacking in creativity, but not artistic pretentiousness.

It was so bad that when I tried to read it, I couldn't. It was awful. It was boring. Do these people consider that they are writing for an audience that they have to keep entertained? That's a writer's job, ok? Entertainment. If you want people to read your work you need to make it interesting to them and not only to yourself.

And I know there's that saying about how critics are people who aren't good at what they do so they... critisize it. So... why am I critisizing? Does that imply that I can't do the things that I'm commenting on?

Hah. Foolish, foolish people who are too quick to judge and not quick to listen. I've been making up stories all of my life. I've been imitating people and creating characters all of my life. I've been developing my writing skills since... the third grade? I used to edit part of a widespread online writing newsletter. I've won several contests online. I won first place in a statewide writing competition... and the following year I won fourth place. My writing is like my art, except I have less of an interest in it. Every day. Constant vigilance.

And I'm good at it, godsfuckit. I'm... good... ;______;

<---- depressed now.
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I'm in the library. Supposed to be looking up information for my paper on Macbeth, but I don't feel like it. Hahaha! Evil! Eeeeevil!

Jamie's at the computer next to me. He was trying to figure out how to compare Ted Bundy to Macbeth, but now I think he's moved to trying to compare Nero to Macbeth...

Periods are changing...
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diner friends


I don't really have anything to say, but I'm updating again anyway. Narf. Zort. Troz. Fran?

Anyway... uh, Mrs. Atkins said she asked about why I didn't make it onto Colonel staff... and she said that, according to Mrs. Danks it had nothing to do with me personally. She just didn't like that I wanted to work as just an artist. he said something about how, had I been willing to write as well then I probably would have made it.

But I just don't get why it would make so much difference. Guess I'll find out for myself tomorrow at lunch.
diner friends


Ahhhh! Ooohlalala... I'm lall hyperactive and squeaky right now. I don't think I'm going to be going to sleep for a looooooong time. Ehheh. I'm slowly being taken over by eratic sleep patterns, which I think is another symptom of depression. Hah. Hee. Oh my.

I drew! And for the first time ever I will attempt to post the actual picture on livejournal for your convenient scrutiny. Have fun!

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