Last work day of the week.

I still haven't packed for Clark. I'm still thinking of what clothes to wear and tonights dance practice should determine that.

I brought "Model Behavior" with me to work so I can study Jay McInerney's rhythm. My writing has suffered since I went to work. Not enough books and too much fanfiction. My method has become so schizophrenic that I wonder if i'm ever going to achieve a writing identity. I've been changing writing tones like I change accents, and while that's flexible it can be very confusing to a beginner.

Imagine that. Twelve long years and I am still a beginner.

My writing has become unfocused, with swear words taking the place of adjectives...even though it can be construed as an adjective. I'll have to check on that.

At least my horizons have broadened somewhat, subject wise. I remember the time when I wrote nothing but cheesy Sweet Dream-ish stories and my never ending sci-fi novel. A nicely written drabble that was hecka long with no real plot nor story. I think I was just liking the way I wrote at that time, kind of like trying a new debating manner and loving the way you now spoke.

Argh!

Even i'm confused in the switching tones in my head.

When I write, I have this voice talking inside my head and I just jot down what it narrates. Unfortunately the voice changes with my moods, and there's always a huge difference. Accent-wise, attitude wise. It's a different person talking, acting, breathing, and singing. They have their own set of quirks and they are all chomping at the bit.