Quoted text

I'm finding it near impossible to put words down, except when writing in this self-aware style, a style that doesn't really mean anything, a style that isn't a style but is only a spewed collection of thoughts. What good are thoughts like this? What good does my writing this do? Am I proving a point? Asking rhetorical questions has no point in writing (and neither do parenthetical asides, or so I have been told. I disagree with both points--there is a place for anything in writing, so long as you can fit it well; I'm probably not fitting it well right now, so I suppose it could be argued that this is pointless. I might agree with you). So, I'm left with a crappy rainstorm outside and a lack of brainstorm here. Whoopdeefreakingdoo.
I'd really like a cup of coffee, but I took my coffee machine home. Starbucks is too far (and remember, it's raining. Fuck going outside). I never know how to place periods at the end of parenthetical asides like that. Same goes for "quoted text." It's a word or phrase in quotes, not dialogue...so where does it go? "Quoted text". or "Quoted text." ? I think the latter is correct.
Someone is walking down the hall outside my room with squeaky shoes. Must have been outside, in the rain. Kinda sucks.
This is a large solid block of text.
I should study, I have an exam tomorrow. If I do well on said exam, I might get an A in the class. I I don't do well, I'll get a B. I should study. But will I? That's not rhetorical, I'm honestly wondering.
I finds that I compare myself to other writers I know far too often. I'm never as good as them. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I'm not. I might feel that what I write is as good, but then I go back and look at it agin and I want to burn the pages because they're shit and I can't write for shit.
I don't even have the attention span to write something longer than 20 pages. I lose track of the story. I veer off into bizarre realms that I never intended to visit, and suddenly my story is not what it was and I don't know what to do and I inevitably stop writing it because I feel that it is crap.
Is it crap? I really don't know.
I'm not even 20, is that too young to be a serious writer? Do I have more skills to develop? I fucking better or there is going to be hell to pay, because what else am I going to do with my life? Yay, good for you, an English degree, the most pointless of all degrees. If I was mathematically inclined I'd graduate and immediately get a job designing car parts or working in medicine or creating new technologies or computer progrms. 6 figures, out the door. Fuck, I'll be lucky to make 6 figures after 8 more years of school. I'll be lucky to get anyting off the ground. My choice of education means nothing in today's society. Why even bother? Jesus, why couldn't I want to be a doctor? What the hell is wrong with me, if I was shitty at English and great at math and science, I'm be set for life right now, or on my way there. But now. I got the short end of te stick, the bullshit inclination that means nothing today.
I'm hungry.
I've finished an early re-write draft of my story, the one with the sex and the party. I think it's better than it was. But it's still a story about sex and parties, aka bullshit. Yeah, so it's a different style for me, woopdeedoo. It's a crappy idea. They're always crappy ideas. I have another, we'll see where it goes if I ever get the balls to write it. Probably not. I'm not meat for this. I want this, but I don't think I'm meant for it. Is that a typical process of thought? Statistics would say that it's completely common to not know what to do with your life. Great. I've got the same issues as everyone else. Something odd about being human is feeling that the collective issues are weighing down solely on your solitary shoulders.