July 30th

Monday night

I strung Christmas lights around the bunkbed, dorm-room style. It's very cool looking. We also got a snack table so we can eat in here without balancing a hot plate on our lap. We've got a bathroom in here, all we need is a mini-fridge and we'd never leave.

I want you all to come over and see my room. I want Alison, Tracie and Maria from England (England, right?) to sleep over. I'm really a junior high kid at heart. I secretly long to shop at Limited Too and buy folders with pictures of N*Sync on it.

I miss my young teenage days. I was by far the most creative back then, grinding out stories, poems and drawings by the truckload. I was a writing machine. I never got writer's block, never sighed at a computer screen in frustration, never thought I wouldn't be a famous writer someday. My dad would buy me a 200 pack of college-ruled paper, and I was in heaven. Now, I work at a computer screen, with my sister yelling, "Stop typing so loud!", trying to come up with an original story. I haven't written anything decent in years. Years. I haven't even had the desire to write. I'm trying to summon up the desire. There's a story in me somewhere.