Shit, ya'll

Not quite sure about what, but that's no big deal. That sentence makes no sense.

I have two stories in the pipeline. One is about traveling to the city. It will be sad. The other is about being famous and dealing with...shit, ya'll. It won't be sad, but it will be Deep. (Maybe.)

There are other stories. There are always other stories.

I think I am going to start making corrections to Not Our House today. It went over well (quite well, actually; my teacher saved it for last, and I don't think that was unintentional), but there are still things that need to be fixed. A couple minor, a couple major. Anyone with a major food allergy want to give me some advice?

My writing has been trapped in a rut, recently, a rut embodied by young 20-somethings, or even younger. The college crowd. I used to never write about this sort of stuff. I used to always write about out-there things, bizarre ideas, nothing relating to myself. And now for some reason I am trapped in a reality that is too close to home. I need to branch out!

So that is what I will do. Make like a tree and...branch out. Yeah.

Final thought:

I don't know what I will do with my life. That scares me.