So many books, so little time

So, I realized that I'm a crazy person. Not for the obvious symptoms, which I also carry, but I am working on four different novels at the SAME time. I have my turn of the century novel that I'm too depressed to work on because for some reason all the quotation marks and apostrophes have disappeared. I have the novel that I'm working on with my friend Leah, though it's her turn for the chapter so I'm kind of on break with that one too. I have a new novel I've been working on recently about someone who finds herself in a different dimension. Then there was the novel that was basically an autobiography except I changed everyone's names. I think I kind of stopped on that one, because it wasn't really going anywhere. Life doesn't really have a plotline, it just sort of happens. Sometimes interesting things happen, but boring things generally lead up to it. LOTS of boring things in my life, well at least from a reader's standpoint. It just didn't feel like it was ever going to end, which technically I hope my life story doesn't end for QUITE some time, but as a story it just doesn't work. Anyways, I'm crazy, but I bounce around between them a lot, just too keep my creative juices flowing.

I also finally got sick, it's been about a year and half since the last time I did... or maybe just a year. My whole family has been sick for about a week, and I'm just now getting this weird bronchitis-like cough. I also have to close tomorrow, which sucks. I officially despise my assistant manager. It's like this weird rush in my veins of hatred whenever I see them. It comes out as being extremely respectful, but when she leaves I get this weird feeling of wanting to go into insane hysterics (yet again, I'm crazy). I wonder several times a day how she's been able to get to her position and how she's kept it.

Anywho, I can't really decide whether or not blogging is completely pointless. I mean, some people have these awesome blogs that talk about awesome things, and quote amazing people, etc. I however, repeat the mundane happenings of my life that no one really cares about. I wonder why it is that so many of us feel that our lives are so important that the whole wide web must know about it. I don't really feel like my life is important, or worth sharing really, but I guess in my case, it feels freeing to put things out there and see what happens. In my case, nothing happens. Hopefully, my fiction will get much more feed back than my reality.