you may say i'm a dreamer - 09.22.01 - 11:05 pm
Look!

I am writing this entry to keep my fingers from writing that boy an angry and confessional e-mail. For some reason, right now, I am angry w/him and never want to see him again. Don't know why. Don't really care to know why, either. Of course, this will all change and I'll go back to wishing he were here. I give it another hour before I'm writing him letters telling him how cool he is.

I think I've been listening to too much Sleater-Kinney.

No. There's no such thing as too much Sleater-Kinney.

Within the next few days, I will be sending in an application to attend a writer's retreat far far away from here. I know they will accept me cuz I *want* them to accept me...so bad, in fact, they will feel it in my words and take me in even if I suck ass. That is my version of optimism.

Have you ever felt that if you don't write enough, you'll either explode or disappear? You can write and write all fucking night, yet you look at the pages and feel even more empty than you did in the beginning.

I haven't felt full in years.

Hopefully, leaving *here* will cure me and I'll write the most brilliant stories that will leave people speechless. I think I have it in me. I just have to find it.

One thing that has been keeping me from focusing on reality lately is figuring out how I'm going to get to this place if they accept me. Airplanes get to their destination too quickly and ticket prices have skyrocketed. And I hate flying.

Trains could be nice...I could send that boy postcards from each station detailing how much I'm growing. I could also see this country w/my own eyes...the furthest west I've been is Knoxville. Also, there's something about trains that I really like. Ferchrissake, Kenny Rogers sings about them and he has taste! But...5 days in a machine controlled by someone else, I don't know.

I really think I would like to drive myself. Granted, I still haven't gotten my license, but I also haven't been accepted. So, shut up. It would probably take me longer than taking a train, but oh well. I write about how I want to see the country...what better than from the driver's seat of a late model Chevy? *And* it would definitly give me something to write about. Sure, the south is great and all but I think it's time to expand my settings.

Fuck it. Even if I can't get in, I'm going to drive cross-country. Just for the hell of it. I think I have family out there somewhere. Who knows? Who cares? I have to get out of this place and clear my head. Staying here makes me think and remember all these times past. That's what sucks about living in the same town for almost your whole life. Everything and everywhere has a story.

I just want to live in the present.

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