Homework From the Previous Week.

Time, stress and anxiety were the main causes of my failure to write a novel. Though, in all actuality, it probably had more to do with laziness and taking a cop out by blaming it on my workload. The sad part is, I outlined the entire story. I know what Io want to write and mostly how I want to write it.... though as I attempt again, its getting more and more difficult. Regardless, I couldn't continue. Maybe I feel like I should absorb more culture and points of inspiration from which I can draw- films, music, books, tv, art, photographs, nature...life? I'm not entirely sure. But then again, when would I write? Would I even be able to write? In short, I don't know.

Today I went to store. It was good. There were things I wanted. Mom said "NO!" I got sad. She bought me a ball. I now have a ball. It's blue. I don't like blue.