I am...

Melancholy. You can tell in my writing, can't you? My writing has been...dumb. Yes, that is the word. My writing is dumb. I catch myself writing stupid comments on essays and stuff and then I just leave it with a quiet chuckle to myself. I'm surprised no one looks.

I was blogging earlier but then my internet got all f'ed. I was writing about when I was little. When I was little I used to play with my Barbies and my cousin's trucks. Yes, I played with Barbies, but those days are so far behind me now. Anyway, I writing about the time that I was playing with my cousin's trucks and then I opened my closet. I saw this little piece of something--a creature--and it scurried around and scared the crap out of me. After that I got really sick. I had a fever. I don't know what happened or what they thought, but then, next thing I know, my grandma is holding my hand over a bowl of water and saying things in a language that I don't understand. After that, I got better. When I asked my mom what and why of the matter, she said that I had bad spirits in me. All I know is that I saw my grandma walk the path from my house that day with her big leather purse and I knew that she was wise. She knows things that I don't. And just because they're not academic things, doesn't make her ignorant.

I've noticed that this blog lacks the zest that it used to have. I now mainly write about my obsessions-of-the-moment (which include dudes, songs, movies, and music...all forms of media...except the dudes...hmm...what is this? brainwashing? I'm on to those pigs...) and the events of the day. None of the random things that I used to write about. Maybe I should sprinkle some Charlie's Creek fan fiction.

I need inspiration.