everything I've written lately has been in my "book" (no, not one of my eventually to be published pieces which may happen sooner than i think depending on how fast i can write/read/edit/read/edit/and so on and so forth and how much my friend's company likes my stuff!)

no, my "book" is the notebook i carry around with my everywhere and write down whatever bit or section comes to mind. i wrote 30 pages...15 back to back people, don't get too excited, here...30 pages of timeline and sections/bits for my rewrite of the book i called "yin" (the one i wrote when i was 12)

so that's cool. i've also started focusing more on my memoir. i'm really trying to think of ways that will make it readable for people. and i'm also contemplating something else that i've never done before inspired by my junior year writing class...hah...fuck, thought i'd never say that! (seeing as i'm not particularly fond of it)

my latest typed piece of writing...probably going into my memoir. it's nothing special. 

"the toils and trials of a sick person”

All I wanted to do tonight…because it’s actually morning…12:47 AM with a 6 AM something wakeup for work at 7 AM…was to heat up my eucalyptus neck wrap that’s nice and soft and smells great that my aunt got me a last Christmas. But I can’t use it. Why?

My RA told me a couple weeks ago about an incident involving drunk people in Patterson Hall, Southwest, UMass…(aka Zoomass):

The sink was filled with water and the microwave was thrown in. The stove was also filled with water. The stove is now functional, but we have no microwave.

Weeks later, and still no microwave. What the fuck am I supposed to do to heat up my wrap? Nothing. I have no wrap for my sore neck with an oncoming flu and a continuing stomach bug that shoots sharp, stabbing pains through my abdomen.

Thank you Southwest…this is perhaps the only time I’ve hated you this semester. I’m surprised it’s taken me until Halloween to come to this.