Jammed

I finally received a plum writing assignment from an actual literary company, and will be paid upon completion and pulication. I'm to write 3,000 words about a topic that's so easy and on-my-mind-anyway, it should be writing itself.

I am majorly jammed. I cannot get started. I write a sentence, delete it, write another, delete, repeat. It's a hassle because I need money and while I've written stupid blogs on every site on the internet, I secretly think I'm a better writer than...well, you, and I think my writing is full of insights and quotes people are repeating around water coolers in offices across the land.

Once I start writing, I sometimes need to force myself to stop for fear or malnourishment or general psychoses. Not today boy, not even close. I think my sentences are amateur-hour swill. Maybe, however, if I can string together enough swill, I'll end up with something that I can edit into the realm of the unshitty.

This here blog and its content is the most poorly written piece of shit I've produced in years, maybe since high school.

Ah, high school. What a place. It was beautifully miserable. And Facebook is really screwing with my memories of those 3 years. I have zero desire to visit my high school town again, ever, at all, nor do I want to attend a reunion of my now-swollen-looking classmates, and do what we did back then: get really drunk and watch someone get in a fight. But considering how friendly I am, I accepted a friend request of a high school friend and it's been downhill ever since. People whose names make me shudder at their mere mention are hassling me via the Facebook email system, and I'm secure enough to admit that I'm too insecure to deny anyone.

I do ignore their emails, but I have to admit I find it fascinating how little has changed - everyone sounds like they did 10 years ago. Their interests are the same. The only difference is everyone is fatter and litterally everyone has a wife and/or children. Put another way, I haven't been surprised once by any autobiographical emails I've received from my days in _____. And I find that sad. Or maybe I'm arrogant to think I've changed in some profound way since high school. But, if I *am* arrogant, then that'a a change - I was way too insecure in HS to be arrogant, so suck on that.

Writing this little piece of detritus blog post did not get the creative juices going as I'd hoped. Well, shit on a shingle, I just don't know what to do. I have until Tuesday to write this fucker, so I suppose I can put it off while watching my 3rd movie in the past 8 hours.

And I swear to god I am going to snap if the car alarm going off outside my apartment doesn't stop. 6.5 hours of torture and counting.