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By JD Date: 2004 Jun 20 Comment on this Work [[2004.06.20.00.15.30982]] |
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Every night, I come home, turn my Neovo computer on, tie my hair in a messy bun, and log on to MSN. And at around 11 at night, I will engage in an ongoing debate with our good old friend, Mike- you know, the guy from my past. We're good friends now and every night, we argue about the most inane things in life. One night we could be arguing about U.S. Foreign policy. The next night we could be discussing the perfect drink- Pina Coladas, in my humble opinion. And on these nights, I would carefully avoid a girl named Leanna whom I met at a Clay message board one boring Wednesday evening and now wants to have a friendship with me. I suspect she's a 13 year old girl who really needs advice on how to win the heart of Ryan Malcolm, our very own Canadian Idol, but don't tell her I said that. She claims she's 22. At around 12, I would stop my conversations, settle in further down my very uncomfortable computer chair, and attempt to write something thought-provoking, along the lines of Carrie Bradshaw, my idol. What will it be tonight, I wonder? Will I unravel the paradox that is the teenage mind? Or will I write about the beauty that is FENDI? Sometimes, my muse will guide me and I'd produce a piece of literature that I'd be proud of. Sometimes, my muse would abandon me and I'd produce this- this worthless piece of crap that I call a think piece. And other times, there would be just silence. Which then I would hastily blast my night time song- Mack the Knife by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. God I love that song. Then in the wee hours of the morning, I will brush my teeth, stick my cell phone in its charger, leave my boyfriend a text message, reminding him to turn his alarm on, and jump into bed. But just before I really doze off, I'd thank you, my muse, for giving me another night to bitch and moan about my problems. |