I'd rather

I'd rather be you...with your impressive smirk, seductive stare, strong like the foosteps of an ox, brave just as one who dares to walk in front of it. Perverse, as if it were the order of the day. I'd rather be you any time of the day.

I started a creative writing class on Wednesday. I now I have a reknowned respect for housewives and their writing skills. It is a lot better than mine, me, the world traveller, dreamer, imaginary artist. I was at a loss for words to just sit there and give them my words. It is so hard to write under compulsion, as if you are put on the spot and some of us don't do too well with that. I have to be inebriated or high on Keanu before I can put something reasonable down. But compared to what they've been writing I now know what's been missing in my work:

I have not been writing with my five senses.

What are you talking about Anita? What five senses? I don't even know what they are...I don't feel my words the way people do. She said, instead of saying: It was strong.
Say: It was strong as, compare it to the strongest thing you know, that way the reader feels how strong it is.

I don't see or feel it when I write. I just write it down, more like a narrative. It is not as expressive as they would expect it to be.

Anyway, enough about me. Even though this is my journal.

It's been ho-hum lately. One minute I am high on myself, and the next minute something just brings me down and I am crawling, picking up my jaw from the ground. I feel that way right now. I heard that is the best time to write and since I haven't been infront of this thing all week, I decided to try my hand at something but it will be hard to write it and "feel" it per se. It's hard enough just to write it.

I didn't go the gym. I feel really bad. It is not too late though.