i'm so screwed. Short story is due next week. I asked my mum to go over what i'd started last night...her response:
long, awkward pause. Hesitantly: "did you say you had another story idea?"

Ouch. My ego took a fair bruising from that one. I probably needed it though. It was incredibly boring and stupid and highfaluting and....well just shit. I didn't think it was that shit though. Especially 'ouch' because i was writing in my preferred writing style: i.e. totally bohemian and weird. Maybe i was being lazy. Maybe i was kidding myself that i can write. argh goddammit.

So now i'm stuck. I haven't written a word. Not a single word. Whenever i think about it, i get a fluttery feeling that makes me want to go and puke somewhere. I know it sounds crazy, but i'd really rather write an essay instead. God, what has lit done to me? where is my imagination?

I'm in the library right now, using a lap-top. Sitting at a desk in the reference section by my lonesome haha. I forgot my bus money. Nice one kate. My mobile also ran out of battery while i was telling mum, so i don't really know when and where dad is picking me up. I assume sometime after 5:30. great. looking forward to an eventful evening.

Euna, Kristine and Philipa's japanese exchange students came today. ahhhh, forget their names. how observant of me. they seem nice- or at least, so i gleaned before i removed myself to the library.