Bad habits
Misplaced Chivalry
There used to be a reoccurring skit on Mad TV that had a white trash couple and the male would frequently (and mistakenly) accuse other men of checking out his “ole lady” and subsequently attack the accused only to reveal his own ineptness at fighting. I once knew a couple like that, the only difference being that they were Hispanic, and the guy could fight. He had fucked up a number of guys prior to this story. I’m guessing that it spiced up their sex life, but that’s purely conjecture. He might have just been an idiot, or she might have been his poisonous fuck bunny (a term coined by Marc "The Animal MacYoung" meaning a woman that enjoys getting you into fights. I highly recommend him as an author), or both.
By J.D. Bradley4 years ago in Confessions
Stationery
O.K., people do wonder about my habit. I have to admit that it is not easy being me and having to suffer with an addiction to stationery. Yes, stationery. Papyrophilia. I am admitting something that most people would not find embarrassing, but to me it is something quite shameful, despite all of the success that it has given me. I even dread sharing this with you, especially after all that has passed between us. But why not? I have some time before my next meeting.
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Confessions
The Day My Mind Finally Snapped
Way back in approximately, 1989, I was stationed in Germany...9th Engineer Battalion. I’d been there about five, maybe, six months. Now, the key to deciphering how fucked up a unit is, is the lowness of the number. If you’re in, say the 462nd Engineer Battalion, things are going to be relatively easy. 9th Engineer Battalion is obviously much lower than that. Oh, and I was in the First Infantry Division (whose motto is, “No mission too difficult, no sacrifice too great...and they mean that shit); that’s my combat patch too, but that came later. I was fairly well indoctrinated as too how harsh the life of a soldier was, I thought, then I got sent to “the field” with Charlie company. For those who don’t know, a combat engineer is like infantry, plus explosives.
By J.D. Bradley4 years ago in Confessions
The ramblings of a poor writer.
I sit at my computer desk slightly slouched typing away on my mechanical keyboard, mashing the colourful keys away. The clicks ring out through the air, so satisfying. Sometimes I just write incoherent sentences to hear and feel the clicking. Trying to come up with short stories is hard. So many worlds I can create. Well, in my head anyway. When it comes to putting pen on paper, or whatever the computer version of that is, it's so much more difficult to do. Why can I lay in bed at night and conceive a 5 book epic and yet when I'm sitting here slouched at my desk I rewrite the same sentence over and over? Heck, even this paragraph you're reading right now was meant to be a horror and now I'm just writing my thoughts. Difficult, isn't it? Most people believe being a writer must be easy, I mean all they do is create stories. Well, being a writer is easy but being a good writer? Now that's hard. Being a great writer, even harder. I don't consider myself a good writer, I mean look at the above. What do you see? Repetitive themes, incorrect grammar, and poorly constructed sentences. You know, I had to rewrite repetitive 6 times because I couldn't spell it. Now a great writer needs to not only know how to spell repetitive but also create compelling worlds, characters, plot, flavour, interest. Great writers don't just create stories, they live them. I wonder if Mary Shelley did just come up with Frankenstein on the spot or if she dreamed of that idea for a while. Either way, she lived in that world. Did she enjoy it? Did she dread it? Does Stephen King ever frighten himself? Once a great writer creates a character, does that character become real in its sense? Does the writer lose control? Does one become a great writer through practice or is it a natural talent bestowed upon birth? So many questions circling in my room. I mash away and channel these onto my screen and to what end? Even as I read this I ask myself, what's the point? Why do writers write? Do they try and escape this world, their life? Do they do it for glory, for fame, and riches? Do Great writers share the same motives or do their reasons differ? Why do I find it easier to ramble in this form than to write something good, something great, or even something poor? Do great writers share this or are they driven, they know they just have to write? Maybe that's what I'm missing, drive. How do I get this? Through motivation, medication? God, why is it so hard to write? Not only do you have to find the drive, but you are also constantly battling yourself. Why write? Your ideas are terrible, let's read something, you're such a failure, let's ramble on, you're a poor writer anyway. Sometimes I feel as if my brain has a mind all on its own if that makes sense or is that just lazy writing? I just wish I could write without physically writing, why can't I just ghost-write my ideas. Maybe I'm not even a poor writer, maybe I'm lazy. Oh man, why couldn't harry potter be my idea? Or Game of Thrones or whatever the kids read these days. Even if I did have those ideas I probably would have opened my computer and stared at a blank screen for 30 minutes and then rambled. Maybe all I need is some hot tea and a dark academia playlist on YouTube. Yeah now I'm just cosy and still rambling, I bet therapy and another 3 years studying English wouldn't help me at this stage. Maybe I should go back to paper, the only thing more satisfying than the clicking of a mechanical keyboard is the feel of paper although, I do usually just sit and chew my pen. Plus my roommate is in the lounge room where I would write and he gets annoyed when I shake my legs too much. Oh well, maybe I should just accept my fate and realise that I'm not a great writer or even a good one. I'm a poor writer who can't even start a story. Well, that's ok, after hours of procrastination and pointless pondering, I will throw together some thoughts and write a story to publish. Just because I'm bad at singing doesn't mean I'm not going to sing a thousand miles by Vanessa Carlton at the top of my lungs at 3 am and just because I'm a poor writer, it doesn't mean I'm not going to create a few short stories to share with the world. Never give up and never let yourself get the best of you.
By Thomas Bond4 years ago in Confessions
Coming Face to Face With Me
I'm no stranger to a good time. I'm no stranger to a nice glass of Pino Gris or a cocktail. Hell, I was a lawyer, drinking was practically an occupational requirement. So when my son got old enough, it didn't surprise me that he liked to party. What did surprise me is that he's an alcoholic. What surprised me, even more, is so am I.
By Misty Rae4 years ago in Confessions
It's ok to be a failure
If 30 years on this planet has taught me anything, it's how much of a failure I am. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for sympathy, reassurance or some form of compliment to lift my depressed state of mind, I'm just simply stating a very well known fact.
By Kayleigh Taylor4 years ago in Confessions
How I got Over an Internet Addiction
I've been scrolling through Facebook and Twitter feeds lately, if only because I have literally nothing better to do. (To be honest, I'd prefer going out and having a real life.) And of course, now that the 2020s have started, Y2K era nostalgia is in full swing- you know, Britney, Myspace, Limewire, Juicy, you get the picture. Despite (or perhaps because of?) my status as a member of Generation Z I'm totally intrigued by the fads of my childhood, if only because I was locked out of the loop.
By Jennifer Rose4 years ago in Confessions
My Truth is Far From Easy
I choose my current real time situation, how's this for authentically candid.... I'm 46 years old and tonight I smoked my last puff from my meth pipe and tomorrow I will quit cigarettes because I have four left. Three actually cause I've got one hangin' outta my mouth as I type. I live in a tent near my brothers in Huntington Beach, California. I quit my job over a month ago. My car needs a new radiator which I can't get cause I can't afford it cause yep I quit my job over a month ago. Anywhere I need to go my beach cruiser takes me and thank God I live in a town where it's still cool to ride your bike. My bank account currently has $6.89 with $4.81 in my checking and $1.88 in my savings. And you know what? It's all good because today I surrender, I surrender to my spiritual journey. It's 11/11 10:25pm.
By parker4 years ago in Confessions
Drop A Gear and Disappear
Arizona has been kind to me, even though you got some people you cant keep around you. That is everywhere supposedly anyway I kept my honesty up front, you can't avoid all trouble. I just rolled with the punches and still ended up enjoying my life and stayed on track kind of. I still kept getting track time, I just ran into some financial leaches. As I said in "Kings Disturbance" I have soldiers that help me out even from a distance ,but who said it was currency I received? I utilized my resources that were provided for me. I make this road to success look easy maybe, because there is a road and since we want to use metaphors and imagination. I know I am about to lap all of you on this road hands down. I am in the process of rebuilding and repairing.
By Darius Cherry4 years ago in Confessions
