Optimism and Pesmism
There's this nifty invention...it's called the phone. It's what people use to communicate that they can't hang out. If a phone, or other method, is not used, and you just don't call, text or show up...that's called rude and inconsiderate. Let's try something better next time.
Today wasn't any good. Too much shit and I'm too tired to handle it all. The last thing I really needed was to get stood up. Fucking ridiculous. I mean, how would he feel?
Other than that I'm just feeling too tired, too fat, too let down, too depressed and it's all too much.
The bus, surprisinglyhelped. It never had before.
Poetry on Buses is back and there was this poem called "couple(t)"
it went:
"three blocks later
they're still kissing."
It seemed romantic but part of me wondered if it was sarcastic. I hope not.
The other thing that cheered me up was this little thirteen year old boy who solved a Rubik'scube three times during his ride. Three times. Jesus, he must be the glimmer of hope for Generation Y. (There's been much talk on this, I'll write on it another time).
And for the first time, I didn't want nor think of tainted innocence for this kid. I wanted him to stay the small, skinny, glasses wearing, math loving, cube solving kid that he was. It was a strange feeling for me, to want to preserve innocence.
Maybe I'm just the bitter, sarcastic one right now though. But at least I still think the poem is romantic.
Today wasn't any good. Too much shit and I'm too tired to handle it all. The last thing I really needed was to get stood up. Fucking ridiculous. I mean, how would he feel?
Other than that I'm just feeling too tired, too fat, too let down, too depressed and it's all too much.
The bus, surprisinglyhelped. It never had before.
Poetry on Buses is back and there was this poem called "couple(t)"
it went:
"three blocks later
they're still kissing."
It seemed romantic but part of me wondered if it was sarcastic. I hope not.
The other thing that cheered me up was this little thirteen year old boy who solved a Rubik'scube three times during his ride. Three times. Jesus, he must be the glimmer of hope for Generation Y. (There's been much talk on this, I'll write on it another time).
And for the first time, I didn't want nor think of tainted innocence for this kid. I wanted him to stay the small, skinny, glasses wearing, math loving, cube solving kid that he was. It was a strange feeling for me, to want to preserve innocence.
Maybe I'm just the bitter, sarcastic one right now though. But at least I still think the poem is romantic.