For Creative Writing...

I have no idea what the point of a blog is outside of seeking some sort of critique/identification/reputation/traumatic-past-that-has-you-believe-internet-friends-are-the-best-friends or something of that sort (self-righteous indeed, and all-in-all naive, except I really don't see the point of these things (just yet, perhaps?) seeing as I've always kept journals) but alas, I have one now so I suppose I'll write something.
Seeing as this is for creative writing, I suppose this is supposed to involve writing, my method, format, means and ideas, except I'm not at all interested in talking about that at the moment. Seeing as this is an ego-to-media "device" that I'm on, I think I'd rather say what my night just consisted of via the last hour.

(I am about 80% sure this is not what I'm supposed to be doing but I guess this can be a -1 point for this post?)

So I left work about an hour ago (overnight shift at Kmart) and throughout the night I had been scamming "bathroom breaks" to sit hunched in a stall while secretly writing in my little pad with a mini-pen. I haven't had an intimate idea in a while so instead I wrote about some cliche drug-dealers whom go to a rock and roll show and do drugs and lack any sort of "place" as they jam out amidst the crowd.
If that sounds dispassionate it's because it is. The moment I begun I didn't care for it, though for some reason I liked describing drug intake (perhaps it was the bathroom stall atmosphere?) Either way, I got really into the idea that I was a rockstar and imagined how neat it would be to wear an unzipped leather jacket everywhere and not feel like the wanker of the century.
After I had placed up all the shelves and eternally scarred my finger tips by placing labels, I got in my mother's CRV, turned on the White Stripes and started driving. Somehow, I got the idea in my head that I was the biggest badass in the world and with my seven cigarettes and cold coffee, drove to the Manasquan inlet, switching lanes without a blinker (There was no traffic but it still felt "raw") and parked.
Afterwards, I just kind of walked. The mood subsided to fatigue and after two minutes of walking on the boardwalk I turned around and went home.
Still don't have a passionate story, so I don't have anything else to say.