Brain Splatter

I am glad to be done with work for today. It was just a busy day and I have had more than enough. Now all I got is four more days to go and I can waste away another weekend. Not really though. I am not going to waste it, I am going to be all proactive and shit. How proactive? I will be so proactive that Jessica Simpson will rub me all over her face. It might not help her get rid of any acne but I would have a good time.

I wrote the previous entry yesterday and I liked the visual so I am putting it at the beginning of this one. If you are confused well I guess that is just too damn bad. Now on too today's entry written mostly while I was at work and trying to stretch out 90 minutes of work into eight hours.

I find myself thinking about what I want to write at times. I would love to write something great. But I don’t know if that is even possible? I just don’t know if I have it in me. What if my writing is just a facet of my never being able to shut the fuck up and will never be anything more than that?

I know I am not a great writer. I may not even be a good writer. I may not even be someone worth reading to anyone who doesn’t know me, but is that going to stop me from writing? The answer is no.

I have written pages and pages that have never been seen by another person. Part of me would be embarrassed by people that I know reading some of what I have written. Especially my smut. Or erotica. Or whatever you would like to call it. It is not that I am embarrassed by what I wrote, but if you read my writing and then get to know me you know me on a different level from someone who knows me and then would discover that I write. Or even worse what if my sister read my work? I don’t know how I would feel about that. At least not if I wasn’t getting paid.

I think it has to do with exposing yourself. That is hard. I think when you write something, and let it out into the world you either fall into one of two categories. You have people, the majority I think, who are kind of like exhibitionists. They want to be out there exposed, putting on a show, even if they are writing something deeply personal. Then you have others who even though they are letting out their words, they do it is such a way where they can hide behind the veil of the writer.

I can let my words out as Biff and most of the time I do not have to answer to anyone about what I have written. I do not have to explain to anyone what I meant about an issue or be sheepish about something particularly nasty that I may have written in a story. That is a sense of freedom.

The one thing I do know is that I should write more. I should write every day. Whether it is a paragraph or two added to a story or a thousand word blog, I should write. If you write you are a writer. If you don’t you are not; simple as that. If you get paid for writing you are in fact a paid writer but that has nothing to do with what you write is has to do with money. Money is a whole other topic that I am not even going to get into because I have no illusions what-so-ever; I am probably never getting paid for anything I write. I do it for the love of it. I enjoy it. And it is a lot less of sign of insanity to spend hours typing at a keyboard or writing in a notebook then it is to spend you days talking to yourself alone in a room. You may get the ideas out of your head and into the world both ways but only one of them doesn’t get you carted away by the guys in the white coats.

As an aside, do they even lock up crazy people like that anymore? If you watch the news it seems like all the crazy people and perverts are running around free on the street. Or they are members of Congress, which is kind of redundant if you really think about it. Is it even right to call them crazy? They are more like a bunch of lying, cheating, no good, filthy, stinking perverts. I don’t mean the crazy people, I meant Congress.

I think I am going to have to end today with just a few random thoughts that flying around my head:

Why can’t people just shut the fuck up. Some people just talk and talk and talk and don’t say anything but then they say it at the top of their lungs! I don’t want to fucking hear you. Shut up!!

The thong is a wonderful thing. I know I am a pig but I can’t help it. I was looking at the site Wicked Weasel and I have to say, “Oh, Hell Yeah!” I guess it is just the female rump in general. Now, I am not what is considered an, “Ass Man”, but I don’t hate it either. There is something almost magical about a woman, with junk in the trunk, a nice set of jeans, just walking. It’s fucking hypnotic. And if that makes me a pig, well, oink baby oink.

I am going to lunch. I am hungry. I might tell you what I had when I get back. I know you can hardly wait. My life is totally exciting ain’t it?

Back from lunch. I didn’t go down to the cafeteria; I wasn’t really in the mood for anything from down there. Instead, I had myself a Ben and Jerry’s milk shake. And it was pretty damn good too! The flavor ice cream I got was Coconut Almond Chocolate Chip, I believe. It cost more than I should have spent (I wasn’t over charged, it is just an expensive milkshake) but what the hell? I am special and every now and then I deserve a treat.

While I was out in the mall, I stopped over at Brookstone. I was looking for the umbrellas that I had saw online and to my surprise they were the exact same price in the store as they were online. Now if I get it online there is tax and shipping. But if I get it here, I don’t have to pay shipping but I will have to pay tax, I believe. Plus, I get a discount because of working on the premises. That is a good freaking deal. Hell even if it just takes care of tax.

Pause

I just took a second to look and the website and it looks like I might not get a damn discount! Well that just sucks balls! I am not buying shit! They lost my damn business. I refuse to buy an umbrella at full price! Okay, maybe refuse is too strong. I PREFER not to pay full price! I am a cheap bastard huh?

I like Sharpies. The markers, not the dogs.

I do believe that is it for right now. I am going to leave soon and for some unknown reason the boss is coming in to work the second shift. Shit, she’s here. I can’t be seen to be doing anything but cowtowing and ass-kissing. I got to go. Actually, it is the end of my shift. I am going home. Yay me!. I might write some more Laterzzz…

// posted by Biff Manly @ 6:21 PM