Just between you, God, and me (or Yet Another Monologue on Things that Only the Author Would be Interested In)

Dear Lord,
Please help me write. Please help me finish this thing. Please be my Muse, Lord, please give me a dint of inspiration to carry me through the completion of this thing that I NEED to begin creating by latter half of 2005. I need your help. That's all I'm going to be praying for, for now. Aside from helping my Dad get a new job, that is.
Please, Lord. If I'm meant for this, if I'm meant to, please help me.

Dang. I hate not having my other diary. One way or another I usually have to spill my guts, and that explains the prayer up above.

One thing I realized about me: I don't really like talking about the things that really, really matter to me. Like family. And my Dream. I can talk about the most insipid stuff on earth and bore the disinterested reader to tears with my ramblings on nightmare dates and work-related horror stories but that's just scratching the surface. Spewing out kilobytes from my hard drive memory (and sometimes managing to be entertaining, even)seems a lot easier.

But the megabytes remain untouched. Too massive, too complex to be shared. Haha, yeah right, right.

So what am I up to lately? Between being busy and idle. A part-timer. A comfortable place to be in, but I'm just waiting here. For that phone call that might take me to who knows where again. To yet another adventure. Dang, I love my job.

I wonder if Hartshy-Fartshy has his own blog. Man, I'd give a toenail and an eyelash
to have access to that blog. And maybe some loose change, too.

Can't wait to see you again, you oddball kewlie. I could have tonight, but I choose to be patient. Waiting might yield to even more fruitful results. Oh mehn I hope so.