telling a story

I am staring at this monitor for hours already. I have to write something. I thought of halloween, of the end of sembreak, of the coming Christmas, of chiropractor jobs, of the three books I recently read, or of the sickening uneasiness I am feeling.

The truth is I am thinking of so many things right now. I actually have so many things to write about. I have watched movies in the past days much more than I did during the last semester. Damn. I miss "reviewing" movies. Real Steel is a good one.

I wish I could tell a good story right now. There is a good story around me somewhere, I suppose. I just can't find it. Of course, I could speak of depressions and heartaches, but nobody really wants to read that, unless it's told by Nicholas Spark. I like sad endings. That's why I love Cruel Intentions so much. It has a fitting ending, one that strikes the emotions, and one probably more real than fiction---the sad ending, that is.

I fear for the consequences of the past. And I wish I could take a sneak peak in the future. Though recently, I have been thinking it is how it should be. No clues of tomorrow. I mean, do you really want to know?

Will is such a strong concept. I think I have a strong one of that. But so is destiny. And in that, I am clueless.

And oh, there's a book edited by Neil Gaiman I saw at Fully Booked. I wish I could have that right now. I'll bury myself in that book the whole day today, if I could. Maybe after that, I could already tell you a good story. Or tell you a story in a good way.