Progress is progress

All the words I've learned are on the left. I still have a respectable bunch to work through, but I shall attack the untoward stack, extripating my lack of vocabularic adroitness, so I shall recieve copious encomiums for my great edruiteness.

I'm a terrible person.

When I took communion this Sunday, and sipped the blood of Christ out of a tiny, plastic cup, I wondered if it was those years of shooting back Welch's that trained me so admirable to take shots as a 21 year old. Cue my mom's eye-roll.

Thus brevity is a byproduct of vigor.

I read "The Elements to Style" again, yesterday, because I AM that big of a nerd. When I closed the back flap I felt inspired and got my old spiral notebook with the hope that words would spew onto the page. No such luck. I have a story to write; I know I do. Usually, my stories need plenty of time to germinate, hatching only when the conditions are perfect like some finicky flower. I have a seed that has been twitching around in my brain since senior year of high school. I think it's ready to blossom but my attempts to nurture it have been unsuccessful thus far.