I wrote a new story today. I don't know if I like it. I do know that if I don't stop writing stories and start writing thesis stuff, I'll implode. The word 'thesis', spoken aloud, read, thought, is a parasite. It lives just under my diaphragm, and when it is called, it slithers upward, growing, becoming warm, hot. It ascends my esophagus, enters my brain, takes its nanna-nap behind my eye balls, and its snores are like a mantra. Thesis. Thesis. Thesis, thesis, thesis, thesisthesisthesis. Then I spontaneously combust. BAM! If my brain was not broken before (there are several people who will argue the affirmative, I believe), then it is broken now. Broken, I say.
Oh, look at me go. I have another idea for a story. Nothing like a good thesis to get the procrastination juices flowing. Ra.
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1 comment:
omg you can write girl *is jealous*
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