Nothing nothing nothing

Isaac Asimov once said, "I write for the same reason I breathe--because if I didn't, I would die."

I wouldn't die if I didn't write. But sometimes, I need to write, even though I have nothing to say, and if I ignore the urge, I can't concentrate.

So, Urge, here I am at the computer, writing. Now what? Now I'm at a loss for words. See, I go to all the trouble of putting on warm clothes to come to my 45-degree room so I can type something so I can get it out of the way and focus on my history homework, and I don't even have anything to say....

Well, so what? Kathy Embleton once said, "Myth: You can't write if you have nothing to say." It's a myth, she told me, because you can. Just write nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing until you come up with something.

Nothing nothing nothing something nothing something I can't think of anything nothing nothing nothing...

It's not working. On the other hand, I'm still typing, so maybe it is working. Or maybe I'm just keeping my fingers moving so they don't get too cold to type anyway.

Ya know what bugs me? When I try to comment on something and people either top it or trivialize it. Like, a day or two ago, I was telling Brian Bublitz that my room was 45 degrees, and instead of saying something along the lines of "Wow, that's pretty cold," or anything, he intentionally started blowing it off and saying "Meh, that's warm. Big deal." Sure, it's warm... for outside in the wintertime. But room temperature is 72. 72 >45. lrn2domath, n00bz0r! So he said, "Well, MY room is 23," to try and top my story. No duh! As Mr. Shull is fond of saying, "I was born at night, but it wasn't last night!" (Actually, I was born around ten in the morning, but that's beside the point.) So I pointed out to Brian that I wasn't stupid and his room is 23 Celsius, which is a big difference from 45 Fahrenheit. He denied it and then left before I could prove it. Punk.

Anyway, yeah, so that's that story.

Last night, after work and schoolwork and stuff, I came to my Room of Cold to get dinner. Made dinner, plunked on the piano for a bit, then sat down at my computer, was just about to relax, when suddenly I remembered it was Monday and the Packs had invited me over for dinner at six o'clock. I checked my watch. 5:55. Crikey!

Since I had already eaten, I was tempted to call them up and say, "Sorry sorry, I totally forgot, can we reschedule," but decided against it. They don't live that far away, and I'm a college student, I can always eat more. So I just drove over really fast. I don't think they even noticed I was a few minutes late....

Dinner was really really really outstandingly good. Peas and rice and chicken and some type of gravy soup stuff and lemonade and zomg wow it was the best meal I'd had in months! Anyway, after dinner, Kamren said, "Hey, watch me run! Watch me run, Kaffoon!" and then she took off running down the hall, stopped before hitting the wall, and then ran the other way. After watching her do that a few times, I snuck over to the corner around the hall and caught her when she ran screaming out of the hallway. She giggled and said, "Again again!" So she ran down the hall and I caught her again and again and again. Then the dog, Cody, brought me one of her toys, so with one hand, I played tug-of-war with Cody, with the other hand, I grabbed Kamren as she ran full speed down the hall, and at the same time, I managed to carry on a conversation with Kamren's mom. (I still don't know her name.... hehe...)

For the record, the dog looks really funny. She would be almost a normal-size dog except she has these short, stubby little legs. When she sleeps on her back, her legs stick straight up in the air, which looks hilarious!

Anyway, then Kamren got out her boxing gloves and she and I beat each other up a bit. I was doing fine until she put the boxing gloves on her feet. How do you block something that low? Crikey!

I feel a little bad for playing favorites with the kids. Little Noah's maybe three years old, but I don't play with him very much. He kind of avoids me, and he's not really playful like Kamren. It seems he likes to do things that he knows irritate people. Then again, maybe he's just shy or something.

Today was fun too, because it was Cordi's farewell party. She's leaving (woe and tragedy and sad day!) and we had a lunch party with steak and crab legs and some really awesome blueberry/whipped cream dessert. I had some Alaskan king crab just so I could say I'd had some. I'm mildly allergic to shellfish, so I just stole some of Aaron's. It's tough getting the meat out of the shell when the shell has spikes all over it!

So then I tried to do history, and did fine on the first ten or fifteen pages, but after that, I couldn't concentrate anymore to save my life because I felt like writing, and here I am, not really writing anything. Yep...

It's almost ten o'clock at night. I wonder if I should go shower and try to sleep. I don't think I'll be able to. I think I took a nap this afternoon. Or maybe that was yesterday. I guess it was yesterday. I tried to take a nap earlier, thinking it would clear my head, but after half an hour of trying to sleep, I gave up.

And now I haven't typed anything in ten minutes... that's rather silly of me. And my fingers are starting to get cold. Anyway, I kind of want to write a story. I have a vague idea of some characters, but I don't have a plot or even a setting, so that pretty much fails, I guess. I would take my laptop back to Pi Room to try and work on it, except a) I don't want to carry fragile equipment on the ice if I can help it, and b) theoretically, they'll have the heat and hot water fixed in the next day or two, so it's not really worth it at this point to move anything else anyway.

The end.