Thera-Flu(tm)-induced bloggelling


So it’s nine, which is past ye olde bedtime, and it’s a school night, which is uncool, and I have a miserable cold that I condemned myself to when I scoffed at my coworkers’ excitement about the possible advent of a cure for the common cold (“No!  We don’t need it!  You got a cold?  You GET OVER IT.  Get tough!  Et cetera!”), and I just downed some delicious sleep-inducing cold meds and then (just now!) sneezed all over my monitor, ew.  What I’m sayin’ is that I’m dippy with drugs and yet still writing because I really want to write but have felt a little mentally constipated of late because of too much standardized testing at school and not enough sleep at home.  Or at school, for that matter.

I blew my nose roughly 137 times today.  I lost count once I passed 111, so that’s an estimate.

I laid in bed for most of the evening reading WATCHMEN, which a different former student lent me.  I’m also supposed to be reading her short story, but I left that at school.

I really like short things.  In writing, I mean.  Just now, I’m realizing how much I like a bunch of writing all piled on top of itself and sorta fast-paced (just forgot how to spell “paced”–not boding well for spelling savviness in my theraflu semi-coma!) and pummeling and then a punctuator sort of sentence.

I’m pretty sure it’s a cliche, though.

In fact, I’m almost certain of it.  Why is it that we figure out that things are cliches about A too many minutes after they’ve become cliches?  We’re basically condemned to perpetuate them before giving them their due shunning.  Or maybe that’s just me.  At any rate, I hate that, because then they sort of latch onto my communication/behaviors before I’ve the good sense to shoo them away, and, you know, they stick.  It’s like walking into a piece of gum that you can SEE on the pavement–you KNOW it’s there, before you even step on it–but you can’t seem to convince yourself to sidestep it.  The looming DESTINY of that fucking gum on your shoe is just something you know you have to resign yourself to.  It’s inescapable.  One cannot shirk their own fate!!!!!

My fate: Cliches.  Excellent.

Prolly it’s time to go to sleep now.

What the fuck is this post about again?  Oh yeah…wait.  It’s not.  About anything.


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