slicing up eyeballs.

i get eyelashes in my eyes a lot. almost everyday, probably. does this happen to anyone else? i have to use the tip of my finger to get it out.

i'm now down to one cd shelf. i consider this a huge accomplishment, a milestone in my life.

i donated a lot of junk again today. i don't necessarily feel "charitable."

somebody finally picked up the junk we put in front of the rich bitch's house. all that remains are a couch and loveseat.

my mom has been coughing a lot. she likes to say things like, "maybe it's because of the dust." last month it was, "maybe it's because of the christmas tree."

i can hear kathy griffin's voice on the tv. i can't stand that woman.

if it were up to me, i'd be watching a mary elizabeth winstead movie right now. preferably death proof, or else final destination 3.

i got accepted to two graduate programs, and i don't really want to go to either.

if i had friends, we'd probably be doing something stupid tonight. like playing video games, or else talking at a bar.

i'm a part-time misanthrope, i've decided.

for the past two days, i've been thinking about the lyrics: "i'm taking the cure/so i can be quiet/whenever i want," and wondering what they mean.

if laughter is contagious, then i must be immune.

i'm ready for something new, something big. preferably dramatic and dangerous as well.

in my bedroom, there are feathers, feathers everywhere. dust balls and feathers, it never ends.

it was so sunny today that i thought about riding my bike. it didn't happen.

i thought about volunteering again. or an internship. but toby's right when she said, "there's nothing worse than a twenty-five year old intern."

i am owed something. i shouldn't have to start from scratch.

i'd just like to keep my sanity. and my dignity.

i'd like to see it all go down in the streets, to fulfill my childhood fantasy of defending myself, hiding behind my bedroom window, armed only with my rubber band gun, a bb gun, and a slingshot. your bombs and your bullets have nothing on us.

this wheel of fortune spins out of control.

this game of life is missing too many pieces.

2 comments:

sprout said...

yah, when i said that, it was a put-down on myself. see, because i'm a 25-year-old intern.

also, that last line is kinda cheesy. hate to tell you.

Talking about Hard Times said...

but on the bright side, you'll be a 26 year-old intern in a matter of weeks.