kahn_man

Yeah, you know what?  Fuck you guys.

You aren't any help at all.  Every time my life feels like it's going somewhere I get shat on by other people who are too self-absorbed, too "in the moment" to stop and realize that what they're doing is horrendously stupid.  Now, suddenly, everything stops while I pick up what remains of my life.

I drank almost every night this past week.  It felt great.  I punched a hole in the wall.  That felt great, too.  I like drinking and getting to know the new guys around the fraternity house.  They're all pretty annoying, but I know I was too when I first joined.  They all have great amounts of potential, too.  There's nothing quite like getting a group of people together and going through entire bottles of tequila, rum and vodka in a single night.  Congratulations to Rachel on her new job, now that I think about it.

It would be nice to post a highlight from this year, but I don't have one.  My life has been one huge shit storm after another with no port in sight.  I don't like where I am, I don't like who I am and I pretty much hate that everyone I know is happier than me.  My resolution for the year was to stop giving a shit and that's going pretty well, I suppose.  I vowed to stop helping people with their problems and now I have a reputation for being an asshole.  In a loving way, of course.  What can I do, though?  What's the point of investing myself in someone, emotionally or otherwise, only to see them disregard everything I say and continue to make the worst possible choice - generally hurting me in the process?  Fuck 'em.

I'm going to start exercising again beginning tomorrow.  We'll see how that pans out with me getting a new job.  At least the iPhone has apps that let me keep track of calories and how far I run each day.  If all goes well I'll be able to do the thing I've always wanted to do, but thought wasn't possible until recently.  I'm not terribly hopeful, but I'm too pissed off to do anything but try for something that will actually fill my life with something meaningful.

"Why, hello princess.  Of course I know you, you're the princess of this land.  Surely you do not attempt to disguise yourself from the former captain of your father's guard?  I'm sorry, your highness, but you are not adept at hiding yourself from the world.  Your aura burns too bright.  Your beautiful visage is ill concealed beneath that counterfeit countenance.

Yes, I see that you are wearing a mask.  We all can.  However, your majesty - if an old man may be so bold - you should take it off.  It is ugly and does not suit you at all.  Your true beauty is marred by such a disguise.  Why do you hide from us?  We love you today as we loved you yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that.  What could you have possibly done to warrant such slipshod shenanigans?

Ah, I see.  You've ended your song to the giant.  Without your song to cool his temper he may grow restless and return to terrorizing the country side.  Of course, your people do not blame you, princess.  It was your choice to sing to him in the first place.  I am old, and I remember what times were like before your sweet song:

The giant was born in these lands to average folk.  He was very quiet and raised in such a way as to never play too rough with the other children, who were roughly half his size at age seven-and-three-quarters.  By nine years, he was as tall as a grown man, and perhaps just as strong.  He never exercised his true brawn for fear of bringing harm to his neighbors.

However, as time passed, he grew in stature until he could no longer fit in doors.  So large was he that by age 13 the stables were buckling at the beams to cover his girth.  It was decided that he must leave the town in favor of the woods.  A large cave was discovered by one of the king's youngest guards, charged with finding for the giant a suitable dwelling that would contain him not only at present, but in his future years as well - for not even our greatest scholars could tell how large he might one day develop.

He was not a threat in these years, you must understand.  A clumsy man in a doll's house, that is for certain, but not ill tempered as he became.  No, it was not until he had stayed in his cave for what seemed two generations or more that he returned, for what is not known.  Perhaps he needed something that does not come naturally to him.  Perhaps he needed contact with a people who's faces are not unlike his own, however much smaller they are.

It was during his absence that he faded from memory as things often do.  His gentle and kind nature had been left out of the fire-side histories of our people as they cause children to become bored and agitated.  Remembered instead was his ungainliness.  It seems every misstep of his is remembered, every broken dish and door frame accounted for.  But you see, your highness, after so many years, those who had known him were gone.  Moved on from this world, either in body or in mind.

As he approached the village, the common folk cried out, 'Beware, a wicked giant draws near!'  It was with this cry, so am I told for I was away to neighboring lands guarding your father at the time, that those who knew not the giant gathered with hay forks and weapons taken from the smithy.  By the time those who had even heard the stories of old were told of his coming, they were riled by the excitement so much that they, too, believed the township to be under siege.  Yes, beautiful daughter of my king, this part of the story you truly know well, for I am aware that the giant confided in you all of his heart's secrets, but please, listen further.  It was many years ago, and your highness' memory of the events that transpired may not be as keen as mine.

To the giant's great confusion, he was driven off by an awful mob.  The towns remaining guard, loyal to their kinsmen and feeling that diplomacy is best left to the king and his advisors, spurred the giant's retreat further onward until he was beyond our country's boundaries.  For sure the giant frustration was compounded by his loneliness and so must have made an awful choice: either accept that he has no place in the only world he knew, or forge one for himself through boulder and flame.

So it was, that the giant turned on his homeland with scorn in his heart and naught but anger to give him strength.  Even though blinded by his own rage, his gentle nature that could not be stamped out, despite his best efforts - even when unwittingly intensified by the townspeople - forbade him from bringing direct harm to his inadvertent enemies.  Instead, he knocked over homes and crushed bridges.  He would block the paths of traders' caravans until his outrageous demands were met.  Even after the king returned in an attempt to make peace with the giant, he did not relent.  The poor soul even destroyed all the roads leading away from the country so that all the land was trapped with his miseries.

It was about this time that you were approaching womanhood, my princess.  Eager to prove yourself in the eyes of the king and the world, you took an interest in solving the land's greatest problem.  Though, if I may venture a suspicion, I believe you saw in the giant what was long forgotten.  You saw through his anger and ill temper to his very core.  You were able to look upon him for the poor, lonely creature that he was and you pitied him.  Again, my lady, I apologize for being to rash, but I watched over you from your birth, and I would be mistaken if I said that you did not see some of your own depressions in him. 


After you set your mind to it, against what others considered their better judgment, you rode off on one of your father's horses into the wilderness beyond our borders.  You ventured forth into places no one had ever been in search of something bigger than yourself.  A fine prize you might have made for the giant, had he decided to keep you against your will.  However, he did not, for but a few months later you returned to these lands to explain that you had conquered the giant - not through strength of combat or through some trickery wrought from your great mind, but through song.  You showed the giant the kindness you felt he needed and he subsided.  The towns were elated to hear the news, as you must remember. 

However, you may not remember the confusion that followed when you announced that he had shown in you what you had been hiding. Being royalty means being separated from your counterparts, even though you look just the same.  It may be one thing to your people to be surrounded by riches and people who would adore you for your status, your beauty or even your intelligence - and please forgive my ramblings, princess, but you do possess an intellect that frightens many who meet you for the first time - but it is not enough to be simply adored.  It is easy to be filled with loneliness when it feels as though no one accepts you simply for who you are instead of holding you up for merely one facet of your personality or another.  Perhaps it meant more to you to be accepted by someone so different who has no reason to do so.  After all, he could have just as easily dismissed you as another annoying little thing, come to interrupt his misery with platitudes and trifling niceties, but he did not.  For whatever reason - a smiling fortune, perhaps - he listened to what you had to say.

It has been years since that day, your highness.  You managed to reform the giant into something productive and with that has come confidence and due to that confidence he is less clumsy.  He knocked over fewer buildings on your frequent visits to the countryside and has even managed to rebuild much of the damage he caused.  What's more is that you have given your people the chance to accept him for who he is as he accepted you.  I spoke to him of this once, and he said that it was the foundation upon which you have built your kinship.

As I have said all that can be said on the subject for my memory fails at this point, I would urge you to reconsider but I realize that it is not my place to do so.  Instead, your highness, I must implore you while I have you here.  I have not heard much of you or the giant since your last visit and I will admit - though I was once captain of the royal guard - I was bit afraid to ask.  Please, princess, even if it is just for me, even if you tell it in only a whisper: please, take off that mask and tell me the story of how you came to love a giant."

Here today, gone tomorrow,
And other witty phrases
I think I'll borrow.
No more future,
No more past,
Worry about today,
Because you know it just won't last.

Back and forth,
And back again,
My wishes waffle thus.
Back and forth,
And forth again,
My mind begins to rust.

I don't keep journals,
Except for this,
My trifle of a blog.
I don't write my thoughts
About my feelings for
I'm afraid I'll lift the fog.







A fickle mistress, truth.
In the moments she is with you,
It's as though you cannot lose.
But truth is not the same
For them and me and you.
She is different to us all,
And leaves us on a whim.
She gets around,
Then leaves town,
But look she's left a gem.

Lady Justice uses scales,
To weigh our personal truths.
I use mine to measure pot,
And consider thoughtfully,
All the rules.
Rules to stay in line,
Rules to stay in place,
Rules that make no sense,
These are commonplace.

I just don't understand,
Why everyone hates the man.
I've never met him,
But he seems nice.
He pays my salary,
To buy my daily rice.
True he eats better than me:
Caviar by the pound.
But that don't bother me,
'Cause I just "sit around."

I'm lazy and a sink,
Or at least that's what they say.
I smoke a lot and tend to drink,
But really it's OK,
'Cause like that man once sang to me,
In just a slightly ironic way,
Here in America, at least I know I'm free.



Good poetry is really hard to write, but bad poetry is all kinds of fun.  I urge you to try it.  It's a way of cleansing yourself of all of those negative emotions and it is a way to express your silliness and happy thoughts and feelings without writing a long, boring LJ post about your boss and co-workers.  I'm not saying I hate that stuff, I really enjoy reading about all of you, but I've grown tired of just writing entries, so I've decided to change it up a bit.  Hopefully I'll do a few more of these in the future and perhaps I'll get a laugh or two out of you.  But, then again, perhaps not.  Either way, I've found something fun to do and I'd like to share it with all of you.

Preacher, Preacher,
I've lost my faith,
Can you help me find it?
Of course I'll pay the fee,
Love isn't free,
Some words of wisdom:
Let it be.

Help me, help me,
I don't know what's wrong,
Help me, help me,
I know it won't be long
Before I go insane.
Before I go insane.
Before I go insane.

Marijuana is illegal,
It's against the law.
Goddammit now I'm caught.
Time to call Bob Loblaugh.
I hate the state of things,
Whatever state they're in.
I didn't eat today,
In hopes of getting thin.

It's not fair to work so hard,
And get so little pay.
It's not fair to work so hard,
Each and every day.
I slave and slave,
And bust my ass.
All I want's my due,
And just a little grass.

I refuse to be lazy,
I refuse to be trite.
My vision's a little hazy,
Please turn out the light
On my existence.
It really is alarming,
That when I'm through with school,
I won't know enough of anything,
To get my daily gruel.

The sun's coming up,
And I am going down.
It's a topsey-turvey world
And in my head I wear the Crown.
A crown of thorns and one of fools,
I know not which is which,
But I hate to waste my time,
So I simply make the switch.

I'm running with the bulls,
In this ugly, fat rat race.
I'm running with the bulls,
But I'm not keeping pace.
I'm falling back behind,
More,
And more,
And more.
I'm falling back behind.
My life's become a chore.

I hate to give up now,
But I'll quit while I'm ahead.
"Goodbye cruel world,"
I'll say
And curl up in bed.
I won't get up again,
You see,
For I'm already dead.

Keep me from my sanity,
I've left it on the floor.
Keep me from my sanctity,
I've checked it at the door.








I'd hate to just pop in and leave you all with some bad poetry, so I'll give you some prose.  My life isn't unhappy, as the poem might suggest.  I just started writing it and that's what fell out of my head.  It's LiveJournal, so I don't feel the need to proofread (although I did, anyway) or attempt to make it stand up to the other dark, brooding poetry that's sure to have been vomited upon these blogs.

I really dislike working at Pita Pit.  I love the people there, but I certainly don't get paid enough.  The new people don't listen to me when I try to explain how things work to them and, worst of all, they've started lying to us about who can deliver and when.  As a driver, I can be somewhat territorial when it comes to shifts on which I am expecting (read: scheduled) to drive.  I offered to let the new girl drive tonight because she told me she was hired to be a driver and I wanted to give her some experience with weekend night driving (easily the most hellish driving shifts apart from game-day driving).  I figured this would be most beneficial for her since I would be there to back her up in case she got swamped.  She took one delivery and then decided that she was unable to take any more because her legs were shaking and she didn't want to drive in that state.  This only concerns me because she stopped taking deliveries the last time I worked with her for some other flimsy leg-related physical condition.  After coming to the conclusion that she was going to make a worthless driver, I was informed that she is, in fact, not a driver at all.  She was hired to work in-store at night.  Not to drive.  This is especially frustrating for me since I gave up my tips two shifts in a row for her to gain experience with something she lied about being hired to do.  She even lied to my shift leader about being a driver.  Perhaps she is unaware that having a car is not equivalent to being allowed to deliver pitas.  I will be sure to let her know this next time I see her if someone else doesn't inform her first.  Also, I'm pretty sure she cost me about ten dollars by screwing up a customer's order and not giving me the receipt he needed to sign.  Without that receipt, my manager can't count the pita as having been paid for via credit card, so it has to come out as cash.  Cash from somewhere, obviously, but where?  My tips.  That's where.

This may be inaccurate, however, as my manager is pretty sure that it should not have affected my tips.  I think differently, but in any case, the new girl really screwed us (me) by delivering that one pita tonight.  Since she delivered a pita, she had to be given a driver's bag which consists of twenty-five US dollars.  Having one floating around is fine, as that's the way it's supposed to be.  Having two apparently makes things more complicated.  I'm not a manager, so I don't really know.  But I do know that this chick is really throwing off my game.

Apart from that, I don't get paid enough despite having our prices raised and an increase in workload, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Alright.  It's 7am, CST, and that means that the sun is actually up (it rose in the middle of my poem) and I must actually go to bed.  Goodnight, all.  I like most of you, in case you had forgotten or have just been wondering this whole time.

PS. My life is going alright.  Bumpy and crushingly depressing at times, but overall I'm pretty happy. :)

It's odd.  When ever I'm doing something, I can't wait for it to end, but when I'm just sitting around doing nothing, I wish desperately for something to occupy my time.  Video games are nice, but none of my friends are on at the right time (all three of them).  I'm starting to feel like I just take up space.  I go to my job and I (occasionally) go to class, but really, I'm somewhere else.  All the time.  It's so weird.  It's like watching a movie inside my head.  There are always pictures just whizzing about, colliding into each other, distracting me constantly.  Holding focus on the things people are telling me is getting more difficult.  Perhaps I only perceive it as getting more difficult since I experienced a moment of pure concentration a while ago.  I won't tell you what it took to get me there, but man, I've never felt like I could accomplish more.

Even writing on my blog is difficult because I forget what I said a few sentences ago and will occasionally just start writing in all directions at once.  I'm sure that this is a side effect of my lifestyle.  It's 2am and I'm not tired (not really).  On weekends, I work the night shift at Pita Pit.  I can't even begin to tell you how much this is affecting my life.  They've told me a couple of times that they're going to hire a new night driver and that I will only work days soon.  I don't believe them, but I don't really have a choice.  I was hired as a weekend driver so I don't really have a lot of room to complain.  I can't really go about getting another job because this one is really great (except the hours).

Today was Valentine's Day.  It wasn't bad.  psomyd and I got each other large stuffed animals.  She got me a giant frog.  He's awesome.  I got her a giant bear.  It is difficult to walk around in our room, now. 

I got the dog neutered.  Poor guy.  He got neutered, had a hernia removed AND had three teeth pulled in one vet. visit.  He's doing quite well now and is cuddling next to my thigh as I type.  He snores loudly.

I wish something exciting would happen.  I get so bored sometimes.  I look around at all that I've accumulated and I think to myself: I don't need half of this shit.  More over, given a second shot, I would not pay for most of this stuff.  All it is is clutter.  I liked my new place better when it was empty.  Now it's full and I have just as much stuff in the way here that I had at the old place.  We clean.  We really do, it just doesn't seem to make a difference because we don't stay on top of it.

Had to get my car fixed again.  This time the latch broke and I had to get a new one.  $244 after tax.  My car is falling apart.  Slowly.  Not fast enough to warrant selling it or trading it in to get something more reliable, but enough to where I can notice something go wrong every few weeks.  I only take into the shop for important things (like latches).  Otherwise it would always be in the shop.

I'm getting sleepy.  I only have one class tomorrow and it's at 1:30.  Then I have work 9 and a half hours later.  Joy.

I'm not sure.  I've finished one semester of English classes and I'll tell ya somethin'.  The English department at OU sucks.  None of the teachers have the balls to tell a student that their work sucks and that they need to re-write it.  They just keep saying shit like "good effort" and "you might want to try X [where X is a completely essential writing fundamental that said student should have learned in high school]."

That being said, I'm through with it.  I won't allow myself to trudge through the nonsensical assignments like writing a 4 page LETTER to the author of some book that I couldn't stand reading explaining why I do or do not think her book stands as a memorial to slavery.

    Dear Toni Morrison,

         I think your book stands true to what slavery really was: a terrible time period where white culture dominated yours and forced blacks into back breaking labor every day until they died.  Oh, and that's not the worst of it.  Let me reiterate every point you made in your own fucking novel like you've never read the goddamn thing before because my teacher is trying to be slick by throwing this mind-numbing "curve ball" of a writing format at me.

    Best Wishes,
    Khan


Sorry.  I just really hate writing essays where all I can do is repeat what I've been told because my in-class discussions are mostly just bullshit where we all focus on some unimportant aspect of the piece of literature that we're reading, and, instead of simply giving writing prompts that force us to consider the more important parts of the novel (ie. the symbols, the representations of thoughts and ideas made manifest by some genius's imagination), my professor gives us writing prompts based off of where ever our meaningless conversations guide us.  Instead of getting to explore the novel on my own terms and figure out the relative depth of thought put into the novel, itself, my professor decided to hold my fucking hand with a check list.  A CHECK LIST for Christ's sake!  "Is your thesis in the form of a yes/but thesis?"  "Do you discuss either Gender, Marxist or New Historicism Criticisms in your letter/essay... lessay... you know what, we'll just call it a less because you sure as fuck won't be getting an 'ay' (as in, you won't be getting an 'A' on this essay, God I'm funny!)"  Seriously, I can understand making us earn an A on a paper, but having standards so rigid in your grading while all the while going through essay after essay telling your students that they're doing a fine job and not giving them much to correct on a rough draft is just mean.

Anyway, that's quite enough bitching about my writing teacher for one post.  I suppose I shall, instead, tell you of what I've been considering for the last several years but have only recently began to explore in depth.  I've been considering joining the army.  It's hard to imagine, I'm sure, but I do have a sense of pride in this country and I think I would like to serve her in some fashion as she has given me oh so much.  If I decide to get serious about this, it's going to mean losing a lot of weight and doing my least favorite kind of exercise: cardio.  Apart from the weight thing, though, I should be just fine.  I don't have any serious medical injuries or defects (unless you count wanting to join the army as a mental defect) and I've discovered that having glasses won't screw me out of an opportunity to do something fun like drive a tank or fire some mortar shells.  The military pays well, with up to a $40k signing bonus and a decent salary and, of course, full benefits as far as health care for me and my family.

Also, I'm 21 now, which means I can go drinking.  I understand that some of you were disappointed that you were not invited to come drink with me this past Tuesday and I'm very sorry for that.  I had intended to invite as many people as possible, but it was getting late on a school night and I thought I would literally be hitting a bar or two alone.  Then Bob and Pirate John offered to go out with me and this provided them with an opportunity to visit Tapwerks in Bricktown.  Oh man, that place is fun.  Again, I'm sorry, but it was short notice and I didn't feel like calling folks up at 8pm on a school night to go get drunk a half hour away from home.  That being said, I'm more than happy to hit a pub with you.  Any of you, provided you can legally hit a pub.  If you can't legally hit a pub, then we can just hang out at my place for a while and drink until feelings become like that of a fading memory of some bittersweet love story.

Alright.  The sun's going to be up soon, so I should get to bed here pretty damn quick.  Good night all of you.  You princes of the internet.  You kings of various series of tubes.  I love you all and to all a good morrow.

Amen.

wish them upon me!


Also:
  ROCKBAND
     totally awesome.

These don't come often enough, I suppose.  It's healthy for me to write things down, but I don't do it.  Perhaps this is why I'm so unhealthy, lately.

I write a lot of papers for my English classes, these days (go figure).  It means skipping meetings, meals and sleep.  Marty told me that he was intentionally keeping business meetings short (half hour last week), so I think I can spare some time for those.

I did something really fun last week, but you'll have to ask me about it in person!

My 360 broke and then got replaced, so I've been playing Team Fortress 2 almost nonstop.

When I do take breaks, however, I'll be watching Death Note because damn is that show awesome.

We're now making a concerted effort (that is, my flat-mates and I) to keep the place clean.  I must say that it looks nicer now that it has since we moved in.  I'm tired of being a lazy fucking slob.  It's no fun and I lose too much stuff to begin with.

Something has happened in one of my circles of friends, and I don't know what to make of it yet.  I think it boils down to people needing to come to their senses, but I don't know how to make that happen.  I've removed myself from it and I feel all the happier to have done so.

Video games look great on a 52" HDTV!

I have to plant some corn for an experiment that I'm conducting.  It's really more of an observational study, I suppose, since I will only be recording plant height in different kinds of soil.  I'm about a week and a half behind on it already, though.

Botany, while not work intensive, is kicking my ass.  I bombed the last test and will probably perform miserably on the one in 2 days.  I feel like I'm in over my head, but in actuality I just need to devote more time to studying.  I'll probably be re-reading all of the chapters tonight and tomorrow.  I have to read about 30 pages over gender criticism for Jane Austen's "Emma."  There are few things more boring than Jane Austen.  One of those things is gender criticism.  Another is feminist criticism.  Combine them all and you get about an hour and a half's worth of reading that I would rather spend driving a rusted nail though my cock with an iron mallet that I had just used to destroy everything that I had ever loved and cherished as a child.  Or, at least, not reading the criticism.

How's that for an articulated visual?

Gotta go.

Halo 3.  Fun stuff.

Portal.  Better stuff.

TF2.  Even better stuff.

I have paid 120+ dollars on xbox games in the last 2 weeks and I don't have an xbox right now.  It's broken and I'm waiting on its repair.  Man, this sucks.  However, if I can find my Halo 3 box, I'll have a 48 hour trial of Xbox live gold, which will let me play TF2 and Halo 3 online for a couple of days for free.  I figure that I'll do this at the Manor while I wait for my machine to get back to me.  However, doing this will cause me to monopolize the xbox at the manor for a while.  I don't want to cut on anyone else's game time, for sure, but I figure it won't be a problem since most of them will want to play with me, anyway.  And, of course, I can't spend all of my time playing games.  I still have school to worry about.  And worry I shall.  Sheesh, school is starting to kick my ass.

I have an essay that I have to write for English this weekend and it needs to be about 5 pages long and I have to write a german essay that needs to be about 1 page long.  Babblefish.com helps me a lot when checking for grammar.

Speaking of grammar, my Native American Lit. teacher gave me a B+ on my essay because of my "grammar and diction."  What the fuck?  I looked over everything he circled and "corrected."  The only thing he really has a case for is the fact that I didn't capitalize "Pilgrims."  For his standards, I gave him an 'A' paper.  Sorry, that really irritates me.

Lisa has decided to change majors, which means I'll be in Oklahoma for a few years longer than anticipated.  I can live with that, so long as Lisa's doing something she wants to do.  Besides, it'll give me time to write and, hopefully, get something published before too long.

I just got back into doing some WoW stuff again, too.  Unfortunately, my computer likes to over heat on me and shut itself off as a safety measure.  Man, it really sucks when someone is nice enough to help you out with a game and suddenly you disappear on them.

This is exactly why I got the Orange Box (the new Half-Life game set) for the 360 instead of my laptop.  I don't want to have to worry about hardware failure, which is kind of ironic, I suppose, since my Xbox is currently at Microsoft's repair shop for hardware failure.

Well, that's about it for me.  It's late and I'm tired.  I'll see all of you later.

I decided recently to post a short story I wrote on somethingawful.com a few days ago for critiquing.  Yes, there's a special place where all of the writing geeks get together and swap stories we've written and try to help each other out.

Unfortunately, the story I wrote is just chock full of tired cliches and melodrama.  I wanted to go for a comic book type of inner monologue.  Think "Sin City."

Yeah, that was a poor choice for a first showing.  Fortunately, someone was nice enough to let me know that while a lot of what I wrote seemed shitty and unnecessary (probably because he thought I was trying for true-to-life characters) let me know that there is a decent story buried underneath my drivel.

I'm almost completely re-writing it now with a more serious tone than the last draft.  Perhaps I can even sneak in a few themes about society and our culture (it's a horror piece, so that kind of stuff fits here).  If I do it correctly this time, I think I can prove that I'm not a complete failure at life.  I have a lot of work to do before this ends.

I'm glad I'm starting to write in my free time.  I feel accomplished.  Every paragraph I finish makes me smile until I re-read it.  This is how I write, though.  I vomit as much information as I can onto a page and then rip it apart and move paragraphs around until I have a cohesive, working story.  I'll let you read the one I'm working on now (it doesn't have a title yet) when I get done with it if you want.  It's around 2500 words, so it shouldn't take too long.

I may take a break, though, so that I can write something for the writing contest somethingawful is having.  I have to write something based around rituals.  That term is vague enough that I can see myself working that angle pretty well, if I decide to enter.

It's really intimidating, though, since everyone else there is so much better at writing than I am.

Oh well, I'll get better at it or die trying.

Oh God.  I can't stop myself from writing cliches.  I hate this.