Champion of the Semicolon

Not too much of note going on, really. I'm trying to write everyday both on here and in a notebook, though sometimes one is at the behest of the other. I was talking to Kyle about this thing I have about writing (or not writing), and it boils down to this: I have always wanted to write in some form (hence journalism), but I have rarely believed that I can do write with success. Call it self-doubt, call it fear of rejection, call it whiny bitching...I just don't think that a grad school or magazine or publishing house or anything other than Blogger would take me. Please note that I'm rambling, not fishing for compliments. If I wanted my ego stroked, I'd start an argument in my J201 class. And win. Handily. It's cheap, but not below the belt cheap. Not stealing change from blind men cheap. Not frat-boy-baiting cheap. Not...well, yeah. Not those.

So I have this thing on my ear. I'd like to call it a sore, but it got infected and now it's a big, ugly derma-mofo. For the majority of today (it's gotten better since I threatened it with a Van Gogh-style piece of butchery), it's been throbbing to the point of near-tears. It's probably a zit gone wrong, but I'm not accustomed to acne HURTING LIKE A BIG, UGLY MOFO IN HEAT on the cartilagenous part of my ear. Kyle was putting up with my kvetching earlier, but I can image that mewling over a boil (no matter how big and ugly a mofo is it) is rather obnoxious. I've put a sock in it, and it's starting to feel better.

Moving away from my various lesions, I'm thinking about staying in Eugene for the summer. There's a job I can get with the University that involves very little effort and free room and board. Plus a weekly stipend. Hmmm...