Blargh Mofo!

Sometimes I think if I could just calm my head down enough to sit down and do it, I'd write an amazing story. I'm not sure what it'd be about, and I'm not sure if others would find it amazing, but I would.

Writing used to come so easy to me, whether it was short stories or poems or letters. And now I sit and stare at this friggin' blog and and nothing comes out.

Back when we started this blog the only big rule was that it was all to be made up bullshit. And I had to start writing real things because I couldn't write made up bullshit..

Then again - I can only write *so* much real stuff - let everything out? Hell no - the bitchy side pops up enough - the rest is fine tucked deep down where it is.

There's some thing about being in a not-so-content place in my life that brings out the writer in me. Then I realize no one wants to read what I want to write. So I don't.

C'est la vie..

Ciao