It seems like everything is in slow motion. I can't seem to just write anymore. I have these two ideas...one of which I'm almost finished..and the other is just a basic idea I have to sort out..but it's been like half a month and they're crawling at a snail's pace. I have no motivation whatsoever and apparently now this is turning into more of a journal than anything (oh the horror!). I guess on that note I saw these really cute skater guys crossing the road today...*sighs dreamily* Love is a bitch....Hell, Love is the combined chromosomes of a bitch and a son of a bitch (That same bitch? perhaps...quite disturbing, though.) ultimately creating Love. Love has no siblings, except say for its long divided siamese-twin, Hate. Love and Hate are basically the same things, as they were formed from the same materials and were even attached at one point, so really, despite their shallow differences, they are both, deep down, the same in almost every way. How quaint. Indeed. I could go on, but I need to be waking at an early hour tomorrow. And my brother is due in any moment from his bar-hopping. Haha, I'm kidding. Well, not about the bar, but about the hopping. My brother is such a funny fellow. Anyway, you shall all expect a writing from me by the week's end. I promise you that. And no, it will not be another of these horrid journal-style entry. How can any of you stand to just read each other's complaints and queries about life? Really? I can't stand it sometimes. I hope you all didn't put yourselves through too much misery reading this and hoping for something good. All I have left to promise are my words, that of which have fallen short of anything remotely wonderful or even good lately. Is writing much like riding a bike, do you suppose? Or after you've written all your ideas and everything your brain has, do you just stop? Or do you go on repeating yourself? There are only certain combinations words can make...much like that saying about the monkeys and the typewriters and how eventually they will write out one of Shakespeare's works or some other fancy idea like that. You know, all the like...My, have you all not gone and shot yourselves by now? Please, don't die on me. I'll stop myself soon. Really..and you can all go on with your lives. Instead of being trapped in my meanderings. My, it is quite hard to stop, isn't it? I apologize. By the end of the week though...I will have something...I hope. Don't get your own hopes up. Summer is draining and without inspiration. No turmoil to fuel my writing pangs.