I still remember what my creative writing teacher once said which I thought was compelling: "If you don't read, you can't write. Read, read, read. Write, write, write." My favorite subject in grade school was reading and writing and still was until about 2-3 years ago. I have lost my sense of curiosity and my drive to learn and gather information. I have ceased to become nosey, and the passion to want to experience other people's experiences through the written word is pretty much obliterated from my blood. I say this with sadness and longing. And yet, I'm not doing anything to reverse the situation. I have dejectedly accepted it.

I thought that by taking this anti-depressant Lexapro, I might recover some of the passion, but nothing worth reporting in that department. Although it has helped me become less weepy and less anxious, I still long for that time when I would gobble through 4-5 books a week and live in that world of imaginary experiences. Now, the only imagination my mind can conjure, is the image that I am Simon Cowell's pregnant girlfriend who gets hormonal enough to bitchslap that black why-are-you-still in Simons boat and private plane eating his grocery Sinita woman. Oh, ok so I still read the rag sheet. Excuse me.

Oh well hell. To bribe you to continue reading my rag, here's something I will show you  for the first time ever....Me twerking.