There's just something about staying up late on a Saturday night, high on caffeine from too many diet cokes too late, editing and mushing other story bits around. I kind of want to crawl into bed, but I know I won't sleep. I dug up an old story I had written, geez, at least 10 years ago. Retyping it, I realized that it was really just plain awful. I think the stuff I wrote in high school was much better (and that was 13 years ago). It's amazing to think of what I've learned about writing over the past few years, and realized that most of my old stuff sucked donuts. I hope this means I'm getting better. Now if I can just get the stuff out of my brain and onto paper. I really miss writing longhand. There was nothing more real about writing than sitting down and grabbing the nearest paper and writing down the flow of thoughts. I type most of it now, and it seems detached, in a way. I can get it out a lot faster this way, but it seems so sterile. But at least it's legible :p

My cat seems to think I should just stop this crazy stuff I'm doing here and play with him.

I need some fresh ideas.