I guess another reason to write would be the crushing depression and insignificance I feel upon not being productive so far this quarter with my writing (paradox much?). Writing is a strange, strange thing, my Internet friends/admirers. Once you take the plunge and start referring to yourself as a writer, which is something that I have done since the age of seven when I wrote a stunningly awful story about an endangered Killer Whale called "The Whistle of Tobias,"it becomes a crucial part of your identity.
In that way, I guess being a writer is a lot like being "sexually active" as they like to say in Juno. Once you start writing, a little voice is born in the back of your head which constantly reminds you that you should, in fact, be writing. Once you start boning, a similar little voice in born in the back of your head, reminding you that you should, in face, be boning. Of course, with sex an actual human being can be born in addition to that little voice. To my knowledge, writing carries no such risk...but you get my point.
At least the Indians and Cavs are winning. And at least Breaking Bad, Community and Lost are all currently on television. At least I have my health and all that jazz.
Anyway, enjoy smoking weed today, Athens. I promise this post was not written under the influence of anything other than teenage angst.
