My dad was messing around in the kitchen and I approached him with a piece of paper in my hand.

Me: We got a new student teacher for the rest of the year in english, and she gave us this worksheet for parents to fill out about our personalities.

Dad: What? Who does this bitch think she is?!
--

On the subject of the girl on the salt container . . .

Me: Why is there always this little girl, with that short dress and umbrella bigger than her whole body . . .

Dad: *turns container around* And then there's this other picture here, of her when she gets older. She's still wearing the hoey dress.

Me: In the rain.

Dad: With the wind blowing it up. She's a slut. *looks at her approvingly* She's spillin salt.

Me: . . .

Dad: It's wet and salty.
--

Our dog's eyes glint black and green, and . . .

Me: Oh my god, do you see that? I'm not crazy?

Dad: What is that, a trick question?

Yeah, I do that. *shrugs* It's entertaining. I find myself interesting to talk to. I can read myself like a book, too. Hehe.

When writing fanfiction . . .
I end up in front of my heater, with a notebook on my lap, and a snack type thing in my free hand. I spend time just day-dreaming and fantasizing about all that will go on in my story, and then when the urge becomes prominant, I'll start writing. And then, when I just don't feel like sitting there and writing anymore, or I want to go screw off some other way, I scooch in my rolly chair over to the computer and start writing in the document I have for whatever I was just writing, and I edit what I had down in my notebook as I type it into the document.

When writing fiction . . .
I do much the same thing.

When procrastinating . . .
I do this.

This is a short story I wrote a while ago for english. I thought I'd post it here. Rated T, genre: horror/romance, slash.

 

( Creating the New Reality )