The Perks of Being a Cuban.

Is every February this stagnant? I just feel ... stuck. I think I'm going to do a lot tomorrow. Apply places, other than Fordham. I need to know that there is an end to this place. It's not even bad anymore, it's just not where I want to be for the next however-many years.

I need a break. I don't even do that much work. I wrote a 10 page play in 2 days. It felt so awesome to worry about writing omething again. I like to feel useful and writing does that to me. I feel like the things I say may eventually be of use, either just to me or to maybe someone. It feels so good to get a good response to the past few things I've written. And now I have a larger audience. It's playwriting, so it's meant to be spoken aloud . So when the readers are reading them and can't get through it because they think it's so funny, I feel useful. I made the creepy girl who cuts herself hyperventilate. I assume she's not used to laughter, I felt accomplished. I think my playwriting is genuinely improving.

I do miss narration though. I miss my descriptions of rooms and skies and eyes. I really miss writing stories. I haven't been inspired, forced, or motivated. I have a story that I started, it's so choppy, but it started out well. I will finish it eventually.

I'm just so tired. I haven't slept enough today, and I'm starting to wind down. I'm sundowning. Last time i blogged before bed, it helped me. I'm awake but my body isn't. it's screaming to get into bed. And i still don't want to. But it's for the best. I think I'll sleep now.