Cramping My Style.

Newswriting ain't my style. I feel like there is little room for creativity in it. A lot of the things I write are things that I didn't write. I'm simply quoting people and writing short transition sentences in between. Also, I hate that my topics are given to me and then I am forced to write about things that I have absolute no interest in. I don't even feel proud of the work I submit. I felt more pride last semester turning in my five-paged essays and getting them back with an "F" on it. I always believed the "F" stood for "Foreshadowing," the teacher wasn't a big fan, he was in love with George Orwell and I was in love with J.D. Salinger. We settled our differences and we compromised for a C on every paper I turned in. Anyway, I just wish this newspaper business gets more interesting. Afterall, our first issue hasn't even hit the stands. I have so many ideas for things that I seriously believe that I can make great but no room for creativity to do so. I just have to get through the semester, it will be over before I know it.

I leave you now with the most beautifully written song of all time. Something to aspire to.

p.s. "Harlots of my perils scream" = " While my prostitutes in danger scream" Good one Billy Corgan.


Mayonnaise-The Smashing Pumpkins

Fool enough to almost be it
Cool enough to not quite see it
Doomed
Pick your pocket full of sorrow
Run away with me tomorrow
June

We'll try and ease the pain
Somehow we'll feel the same
Well, no one knows
Where our secrets go

I send a heart to all my dearies
When your life is so, so dreary
Dream
I'm rumored to the straight and narrow
While the harlots of my perils
Scream

And I fail
But when I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will

Mother, weep the years I'm missing
All our time can't be given back
Shut my mouth and strike the demons
Cursed you and your reasons
Out of hand and out of season
Out of love and out of feeling so bad

When I can, I will
Words defy the plans
When I can, I will

Fool enough to almost be it
And cool enough to not quite see it
And old enough to always feel this
Always old, I'll always feel this

No more promise no more sorrow
No longer will I follow
Can anybody hear me
I just want to be me
When I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will