Man, I am looking around at my friends and i have done nothing compared to them. And yet I hear this all the time from my friends about me. What is this thing that we do to ourselvesi n whcih we decide that we are not good enough by what others do. What fresh hell?

Now that I have ranted poetic about the socialogical impact of this crap, my true reason for writing today is that i feel as If I have no time to write, and I resent the hell out of it. Alll I want to do these days is write, clean, and graden, like I have been transpported back into the 1950's version of an art chick housewife. maybe I will start drinkign and baking while I stand in my underwear staring into the frigidare. Yipe. Maybe not. Maybe just the drinking.

Write write write write write.