Inadvertent Cockblock

Today I rode the late bus, because I missed my regular bus by about four minutes. Being an interloper on this bus, I was unlearned on the seating chart. This is a very important part of school life, where you sit on the bus and who you sit with. It seems like a simple thing, but sitting next to the same person for 40 minutes can get really weird if you don't know them and don't have a portable music device (I forgot my earphones).
I boarded the late bus, looking for an open seat, and literally every seat had at least one person in it. This usually means that seats are being saved. If a seat is being saved, you can't take it, it's just a rule. Even if all the other seats are taken, if someone behind you in line has the forethought to get someone to guard a seat for them, you're SOL. If someone messes up the seating system on our regular bus, people get really angry.
I board the bus, and make my way to the back, where I have friends. However, they're sitting together, which means I needed to find a new seat. There was one with a girl sitting in it, and without even thinking I just sat down.
As I realized what a grievous mistake I had made, I went to ask her if she was saving. I turned to her, saying, "oh God, I'm sorry, were you saving this seat," and I saw she was looking at the guy behind me, who, as I turned to him, was staring at me. And oh my Lawd, he was hott.
My eyes went wide, she was saving this seat, and like some entitled asshole I just sat down.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, do you want-" I began to stand up so he could take my seat.
"Nah, it's cool," he said, and just sat down in the seat in front of me. She looked cute and he was hot and I'd just inadvertently cockblocked the two of them, most notably her. A whole 40 minute bus ride and I felt terrible. If I had been saving a seat for someone as good looking as him, and I was going to have his undivided attention for over half an hour, and some chick just sat down without asking, I would have politely pushed her right off the seat.
I cannot believe she didn't try to kill me. I scooted over until I had about one cheek on the seat. If I was going to ruin her bus ride, might as well take up as litte space as possible. I consoled myself with the idea that maybe he'd wait for her when we got to school.
The bus pulled in, I stood up as fast as possible, and looked over. He was just now putting his earbuds in, opening up Pandora, and booking it the hell off the bus. He left her in the dust. I felt so bad. I wanted to crawl into some small hole and quietly expire.
I made sure to get the hell away from her too, just in case she decided to kill me for completely shutting her down. 

My Personal Writing Challenge

It's been a long time since I've posted anything, and that's really my fault. Well, obviously it's my fault, no one else runs this blog. But, I haven't been discplining myself the way I should be. Writing isn't something I should be doing as a past-time, or when I feel like I can be bothered. Like Stephen King said:

"There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative-fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer station. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you. Do you think this is far? I think it’s fair. He may not be much to look at, that muse-guy, and he may not be much of a conversationalist (what I get out of mine is mostly surly grunts, unless he is on duty), but he’s got the inspiration. It’s right that you should do all the work and burn all the midnight oil, because the guy with the cigar and the little wings has got a bag of magic. There’s stuff in there that can change your life."
 

He goes on to say that the muse doesn't just come at your beck and call. You have to write everyday, at the same time everyday, and then when the muse knows that you'll be there, he'll show up to use some of that magic dust on you, and you'll write well.

 My creative writing teacher also told the class about a girl who challenged herself to post on her blog once a day for a hundred days. Well, I don't know about a hundred days, I don't even know if I want a time limit/expectation, but I do know that I really need to start writing again. I can't, for the life of me, get anything together. My notebook is filled with stories that I wasnt to finish, but I can't (I am already 11 pages into a long Sterek AU, but I can't finish it. I just got so overwhelmed by its scope, that I sort of shut down). Stories that are two paragraphs from being done, but I haven't published (I'm looking at you, Phlochte fic). And I have so many story ideas bouncing around my head that I can't even keep track of them (I'll write them down here and begin working on them, one at a time).

So if you, my followers, will bear with me here, I would like to write to you, about anything, once a day at least. It could be my life (school is winding down, but still as ludicrous as ever. Also, graduation is coming up and senior year is extra stupid) or some fiction writing (I just need to write stuff down). I'm not sure.

So this is going to be a pot-luck writing challenge. And if you have anything you want me to write about, always feel free to leave a comment and I can probably do something with it.