I just got done watching Dreamcatchers, it was an excellent movie!!

I rented the Matrix 2 (I'd seen it already) and seriously, I enjoyed Dreamcatchers more. I love Steven King, he thinks up the most fucked up things.

My friend, a writer, says that Steven King writes in dribble, and the editors jazz it up to make sense.

This is hard to believe, but he said it was his early works. I can't believe a editor would take the time to fix up his work, although I read King could wall paper his house in rejection letters, but he kept on going.

I wish I could do that.

I sometimes don't feel like a writer, it's hard to call myself one. I'm ... hmm it's hard to explain.

I am a writer, but I don't feel like one. People tell me constantly they love my columns and how talented I am, but to me it's fluff.

I just don't buy it. I don't feel that writing a column about stupid things or writing an article about needless, boring shit qualifies me into a category as "writer."

I should be some other name, something other than writer, but nothing comes to mind.

I'm a scared to write, maybe to lazy, I have this idea(s) in my head and they never make it to paper.

It makes me sad to watch writers interviewed and I say "boy I can relate" and then feel like a failure cause I haven't gotten the balls to pull out the paper and write out those stories in my head.

I think ... of how I'd be embarrassed for some people to read them, if I get to gory, add a sex scene, talk dirty, curse, or do things that lil' innocent Jenny doens't do, the alter-ego Jen.

No one knows me.

And then I worry about plots, characters and not being up to snuff on it.

So maybe I'm not a writer in that sense, I'm more like a scared girl with a writer's costume on. I don't know what the fuck I am, but people seem to label me as that, so I play the part, the character, yet somehow feel like a lie.

No one knows this, people ask me to write more columns forgo my articles, they want the creative stuff.

If only my columns could transcend that and turn into 100 pages.

My columns are fun, happy things. My stories, the ones I think of, are dark, horror type things.

Maybe I"m afraid of writing the thing and then what...sell it, wallpaper in rejection slips?

Add this as another one of my hobbies. I have violin, rug hooking, now novel writting? Oh and exercise?

Ug.

I didn't exercise today, by the way. I have a nasty sore throat and am tired anymore. My parents are worried about me...I freaked them out because I've been out of it, they say "in your own world."

I don't know why, but I could sit and stare at the wall and think and day dream all day and be content. I think the world is more beautiful in my mind, the way things should be in my life, and if I can't find these things in my life, why not resort to my dream world where everything is fine.

So today I went out to lunch with my parents, my mom told me she's worried cause it looks like I suddenly dropped weight. I said I haven't really, what's 3 lbs to speak of? I said I was bloated, but now it's over. I said I'm drinking more water. I said I don't have time to worry about that right now.

I wanted to say, I'm under complete stress and no one seems to understand that. They say to slow down, calm down, take days off work. They don't understand that I can't. They don't understand that there is so much work to be done, so much is on my skills and so so so much is on getting things right. I worry that I'll screw up daily, and then get brought down upon by management. Already I screwed up this week and had a boss eyeing me as a complete dumbass.

I kept thinking over and over again: I'm not infalliable. Only God is infalliable and I'm not God.

Why do they think I'm perfect, or that mistakes just HAPPEN sometimes, they act like we mean to do them. Like we like to get made fools of and feel stupid.

I kept thinking ... maybe I should say, "there it's proven, I'm not perfect, I wish I was as perfect as you to not make mistakes. I wish I could act like my mistakes don't bother me, but I can't. I really wish you could understand."

So I sit there like the cheshire cat. Inside I feel deep, dark brooding Jenny. My female boss says she can see when I'm unhappy.

Another thing that happend today, was going to the creepy museum to return pictures. The curator went to go do something and there was this old man sitting there with this knit blue and white hat on.

I placed some albums on the desk and asked if the curator was coming back.... He said he didn't know, then I felt him looking at me.

He said, "what are you smiling about?"

I was a bit shocked, and blushed a bit, and said ... I'm just happy my work is done.

He said, "My father used to tell me that when girls smile they are hidding something."

I said "oh really ... but I'm not ..."

he continued, "and he said, if they laugh then they've gotten away with it."

I didn't know what to say so I looked towards the hallway to see if the curator was coming.

The old man then said ..."what are you hiding?"

He then laughed and said, "my father used to say a lot of things, I think they were sort of interesting ... well at least I do."

It was strange to say the least.

Oh well the BOY at work is poor, he borrowed a buck from a co-worker for dinner, how embarassing. I'd never ask anyone for money. My mom wanted to bring him lunch, and I said NO you'll embarass the boy besides I don't like him still, there is something about him, I haven't put my finger on it.

I told mom that he wastes his money driving back home and that's not my fault nor is it our JOB to pay for this BOY cause it's to fucking dumb to go to the dollar store and buy 10 ramen noodle packs.

So regardless, maybe I'm cold, but I just have this THING about people, I read them well and I know very well that I should follow what my conscious says.

Other than this, my boss is on vacation this week and I kind of miss him. It feels werid without him. Although, sometimes I can do without him, but having to do daily pages, it's just a bore, I want to leave early tomorrow, but I know I cannot.

I can't believe it's ALREADY Wednesday, this week has flown by, and saddly I haven't practiced at ALL on violin. That's horrible!! It's been nearly two weeks and I don't even want to go to class on Thurs. I don't know why, I want to play badly, but the inconvience of having to go there is what I hate. I don't know why I'm being lazy anymore, no exercise, violin, rug hooking, nothing. How can I ever get anywhere by just wanting to go home and sleep and stuff?

I don't know...I guess...I probably did better when I was alone cause I didn't want to go home to an empty house, now my parents are here, I go home cause ... I don't know, it's not a lonely house.

Hum. I wish someone would call me for a job interview, I feel like I'm out in the artic and waiting for the plane to come pick me up, but somehow feel like it's not coming. Fuck.

I better go to bed, I need to stick with my new diet better, I had a lot of chocolate today, but my heart burn is okay...sooo hum.

�

pet ramps