I never say that I hate anything, except for one thing. Writers block, I have been battling this since 2001. Writers block is actually one reason I decided to join this, to force me to write. I miss writing, it always cleared my head; I guess it's always been sort of a therapy for me, and sometimes even an escape.

Before, I never wrote about myself. I could not, the piece was automatically horrible if it had anything to do with me. I would always imagine myself as someone else; typically misunderstood, an outcast, such as myself. I would write about how the typical "reasons" society gave for them being the way they were, or choosing to do what they did; were all so very wrong.

Right now, I have the dreaded writers block. I was ecstatic when I had made my page on here, thinking maybe it was over after that long. I managed to squeeze out two different blogs. That little spark I had, it's gone now. I did come up with this idea though, maybe if I actually write about writers block...it will go away.

I've always felt as though I had lost my creativity when I graduated high school. It died when she died. "She" was the person who got me started writing, or at least well. I went to a magnet school dedicated to the arts when I got to high school. I started out majoring in Creative Writing. "She" was the teacher for that subject. I remember as soon as I had walked into the room, I did my usual: walk straight to the back table and sit by myself. That was not going to fly with her. She told me to get up to the front of the room....I compromized, and settled for the third table, so I was more in the middle; with no one sitting behind me, so I was still "in the back".

She taught me everything I know, and more. I know that does not make any sense, until I say this. She taught me how to get over writers block...apparantly I did not listen too well. She had always wanted me to put my life to an actual book. My life is that interesting, ha. I've never had the patience for a book, writing one at least...I read ALL time time. I've always said that I would never do that. There is too much I don't want anyone to know, especially my adoptive parents. I am starting to rethink it though, maybe after they die, you will see one in your local bookshops with my name on it. I highly doubt it though.

Come to think of it, I don't know what is stopping me from writing an actual book. I'm posting it online aren't I....hmmm, something to think about. Ok, I will try to get organized again, sorry about the tangent.

Well, I went through high school writing every day...several times a day. I received criticism from fellow classmates, I gave criticism right back. We published a school literary magazine. Senior year my role model, second mother, favorite person in the world, had a heard attack...right there in class. I walked into the room, put my books down. I was talking to some people but I kept looking at her. She was quiet...this was very unusual. She also kept putting her hand towards her chest. I asked her what was wrong and she had said something about her chest hurting a little, and her arm tingling. I know nothing about anything medical but I was pretty sure those were the two obvious signs of a heart attack. So I got her to the library where there was a couch to lie down on and got someone to call an ambulance. When the ambulanace got there, they carried her off, and that was the last I ever saw her.

She survived the heart attack, but they kept her in the hospital for a few days to monitor her. She had another heart attack three days later. That one killed her. I have not been able to write since.

P.S. Hmmm...this writing about writers block thing seemed to help. Now lets see if I don't have to do that again....heh heh.