The Never-Ending Ramblings...

Blah, Blah

Can I power write for an hour? Thirty minutes? Hell, even fifteen. Sheesh, its been so long. I’m stumbling on twigs, gnarling myself in vines, chasing the rising sun only to have the light of the silvery moon adorn my shoulders. oh how horrible does THAT sound? So juvenile. Embracing the worn coat of self-criticism. Slipping my arms into the tattered fabric my eyes searching my soul for yet another replacement.

Walk away. So simple, so easy. Somehow, I’ve sewn my skin to this self-destructive warmth which invariably leaves me cold and shivering. I’m so addicted. What’s sweet about it? Isn’t sweetness, funness, the quintessential component of addiction? I guess I’m misinformed. It could be argued that the familiarity of my demise is in fact, its comfort. Berating the ever struggling confidence in me, its omni presence somehow disguised its festering being as part of me. Therefore, abandoning it, just walking away….is viewed as unthinkable as severing my right arm. But not to be confused with my nose, which often is cut off – you know, in spite of my face – only to grow back thicker. Okay, so I’m rambling. I’m blaming the two shots of Pyrat rum. *pauses to draw another long swig* aaaahhhh.

Anyway, Off Topic, (OT), HBO’s Rome, the season finale is coming on in approximately thirty minutes. I haven’t been this addicted to a TV show since the first season of Six Feet Under and, Dead Like Me.

My performance during the tournament sucked. At least, in my last match – yesterday, I was IN the game! I scored most of my points on my serve, and service return. I really need to work on both of these shots. – have laney serve to me. Work on poaching too. Ending the point quickly has got to be a focus of mine. I think, I’m gonna enter two more tournaments, just to see if I improve, then, if not, I’ll conclude the pressure is just too much for me – my T.O.S. arms and visually impaired eyes