As I sit here reading my deceased childhood friend's blog (rest him, bless him, etc), I think to myself: until I really beef up my writing skills I'll never write something legitimate again. I realize my friend did work a lot on his talents- and most of the time, writing was much of what kept him together. That said, I don't have time to cultivate my talents outside of my bookish and boring occupation/education.
Ok, that's unfair. I get to play with corpses and look at brains,intestines, and hearts all day. But so what? I need a bit more on the creative front and it drives me crazy. I'm going on four hours learning about the adrenal gland and about to pull my frickin hair out.
I suppose we can cue the coffee break here...
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