Well, thanks.


Apparently, I got a third DD on Manuscript.


Not to be all self-deprecating, but I don't think I much deserve it. I haven't really written anything in a what feels like miles of time. I don't understand how I'm supposed to work an exhausting job, cook dinner, do the laundry, and spend time with my girlfriend with time left over for writing.

Well, actually, it's not the time for writing, it's the time needed to be still and quiet. It's the time needed to focus on what's really going on inside of me, and then give those parts names and learn their histories.


I am a no-name psalmist.
And I come from nowhere.

I guess I'm just incredibly jealous of anyone who doesn't have to pay the rent.



Instead, I watch CNN and makeover shows and gain weight.
I grow out my leg hair pet the cats.

I wrestle with my managers so I can work the nightshift and see Jenny a few more hours in the day.

I tape up the broken window on my car, kiss her goodnight, and do it al again tomorrow.




Writing is a luxury.
And I only make eight bucks an hour.

Amanda