I tell you, writing my column this week for Fanshawe’s student newspaper is a challenge… silly me, I suppose, for I had thought that making notes and writing a few paragraphs at a time over the month I had off might help me get back into it smoothly, but I was wrong.
I totally had one of those awkward writer-moments, where I sat in front of the computer tonight just staring at the screen… notes up, research open, and was completely unable to write. I still am, technically — it’s not like this post here is a challenging affair, I’m just typing what’s happening.
“I should be in bed,” he thought. Course, the old ulcer wasn’t bein’ any too kind. That’s just the type of life a Canadian blogger/student— no, a private detective journalist- no, a crime-fighter with a meek writer personality leads, living one day at a time with the acid that is the scum of Gotham City flooding up the pipes every damn day…
When out of nowhere, a meteor seemed to strike down from the heavens; he looked over his shoulder as the door swung open, hallway light spilling into the room, striking out the last silhouette he would admit to wanting to see at that moment — a great big Italian sandwich.
“Well… you got a lot of guts showing up here.”