the lady doth protest too much, methinks

So yeah, here i am writing, again....but on the plus side i did manage to finish my Shakespeare homework on "Hamlet" without actually reading the play. God, i'm an english major, i should be loving this stuff and quoting Shakespeare left and right, shouldn't i? Its rather alarming the amount of stuff I read that i really really don't like. I know that the secret to becoming a good writer is to read as much as possible, and I'm really trying to write, but afraid that everything is sounding like some stupid teenage angsty crap which is really not what i'm going for at all. Not that i have angst, but i surely can remember what it was like. There I go, feeling old again. Sometimes it's just so depressing to read books, because i am so amazed by what i'm reading that i don't think that i could possibly ever write something that would ever get published. But a girl can dream... Really looking forward to my Atwood/Weldon class next semester as margaret atwood is amazing, if i could have a tenth of her talent i think i'd be happy. i swear i feel like all the books on the shelf are just mocking me sometimes. and yes, i'm aware of how crazy that sounds, and it is. but seriously though, it's so frustrating to read a book that is such complete garbage that it's laughable, but at the same time i'm thinking why didn't i think of that? i laugh at the stupid chick lit books with the silly pink covers and hapless single women in london with their shitty jobs and unstable relationships, but yet i try to write and all that comes out is angry stuff about my past. Which could be good, if i'm going for the david sedaris approach, which is basically to make fun of my family so much that its considered brilliant. Started writing a story in shakespeare class the other day, about this thirtysomething guy who's this complete asshole and uses women as he pleases, thanks for the inspiration, mike. but i think it might be a little too "American Psycho"-ish, but we'll see. So....off to do who knows what, maybe work on my paper a little bit before bed, or just sit and brood over my recent drunken phone call recieved from a certain thirtysomething ex-boyfriend. why am i the drunken phone call girl, thats all i want to know. should i be flattered? it happens at kind of an alarming rate, and i'm talking about several people here. i don't get it, i'm mean to drunk people, and yet they still call me. well enough of this, the night is young...