o5.22.2oo8

I'm in the middle of rewriting stuff, which is mostly me tummy-tucking and implanting silicon-y boobies into my stories. It's beach season, doncha' know? :

My relationship with writing is...counter-intuitive. No, I do not do it all the time; no, I did not discover my knack for it at the age of four like some individuals; and, no, it is not my number one hobby. Sometimes I write, and most of that time spent writing is terribly tiring. I hate searching for words that represent things I can feel perfectly but cannot convey accurately, and I hate knowing that I will not finish this paper or that project in time because my eyes are having a staring contest with the blinking cursor on Microsoft Word. But most of all, I hate how much it takes out of me. It does not make me emotionally lighter and does not always become my reprieve from a bout of life's pain. It just lets me stew in it.

Which is why I prefer reading. Yes, it is the lazy person's way of empathizing without actually doing the draining work of a writer; yes, it lets me swim without having to drown; and yes, it allows for skimming pages without all the stress of actually remembering the names of characters. So...why do I write anyway?

Because I love it.

Plain and simple.

Guys work out the same way.

I'm on a repetition binge. Don't stop me now.