Hi There
It's ten till midnight and I'm here, watching recently downloaded NCIS fan videos. I'm thinking about making one of my own. I all ready know what music/theme I'd use. It's merely a matter of getting out to doing it. I'm sure I'd love it. I love all the videos I make, even if that can't be said about everyone else. I take pride in my work.
Speaking of work, I might be working at the local ice cream shop in town (No, not Dairy Queen, either). Then, when I came home tonight, not only had I received two missing calls from guys, but the grocery store down the ways from where I plan on moving to called to set up an interview for the photo center, how cool is that? Most people nowadays don't know about my kick of photography. Oh how I miss my camera. I had such fun with it. I should get a new one. But after I pay internet, cable, and my phone bills. I got to find some cash for my dog too, he needs his monthly medicine, not to mention the yearly shots the clinic claims he must get.
I missed the season premiere of 'Criminal Minds' and it saddens me. But the tension was smothering me where I was at, and I couldn't stay a moment longer than it took to put my shoes back on. I'm sorry BJ. I just can't figure out if you dislike the standing between us or if I'm just being ridiculous. I didn't have enough fun Friday night, otherwise, I'm most certain I wouldn't be worried like I am presently. I wouldn't care. I thought I could talk to him about it tonight, but the words simply would not transfer from my mind to my mouth and out into the open. So we sat, for about three hours or so, hardly saying anything. I miss how we used to be. I miss him showing up at my stoop and the two of us talking and laughing on my swing during the late hours of the night. I miss being able to have a good time. So why the sudden disinterest in me, if that is what it is. It's been nearly six months, how much longer should I expect before he's makes a committing move? I don't know what I want concerning him, what I want from him. Then again, I don't know what I want from life itself.
I'm considering a tattoo. Or maybe a piercing. (Because those are so not overdone *insert eye roll*). An old class mate of mine is a tattoo artist and I want to do something drastic, something out of character for me. He even said he never imagined me getting a tattoo. I was hurt by that statement, but it's true. The me he knew and first met would never have dreamed of getting one. Much less bounced the idea around and surfed the internet for ideas, which I have done. I want a new me. I don't like whom I've become. And I'm on my way to change. No one knows about it, though, so we'll keep this our little secret.
Secrets. Now there's something I never stocked much worth in. Maybe if I had some of my own, my singular, individual ones, that had no connection to family or such, maybe I'd have more belief in them. I'd have something of my own to protect, similar to the black leather bound journal I have all but abandoned. Not unlike my creative writing. Sure I post prompts from here once in a while, and I take my spiral Mead practically everywhere I go, but let's face the facts, I haven't written, well, anything since the most recent pay-per-view and a month before that night for the piece before that. I don't know where my drive has gone to, but you happen to see it, please do send it my regards.
Da is under the impression I won't be moving out within in the next two years, anyone else thinking along those lines? I was threatened with an ultimatum just before he returned. Three options; get into school, get a job, or move out. This 'startling threat' occurred one night when mum was giving me grief but getting things done. Considering I've paid for a number of bills without a job, you'd think she'd be off my case, but no, that's just not good enough. Not when her precious boy isn't paying for a damn thing. For the last nine months he's been given everything he's wanted, on a silver platter no less. When electric bills were to be paid, he got minutes for the phone he doesn't even use. When we get extra money in the mail, he's the one who's taken out to dinner, and I'm the one home wondering where the fuck everyone went. It just frustrates me endlessly. My fingers are curling in rage at the thoughts of how she's chosen him over me so many times.
But I don't have time to go into that, and even if I did, I wouldn't. Because, unlike my mum, I know better than to air out my dirty laundry to the whole fucking world. Honestly, and I know this is a horrible thing to say, but I wish she'd be struck mute. Then she wouldn't be able to clue every-freakin-body into our business that they've got no business in knowing.
I think I'll skip Sunday. I'm tired of their bullshit anyways.
Speaking of work, I might be working at the local ice cream shop in town (No, not Dairy Queen, either). Then, when I came home tonight, not only had I received two missing calls from guys, but the grocery store down the ways from where I plan on moving to called to set up an interview for the photo center, how cool is that? Most people nowadays don't know about my kick of photography. Oh how I miss my camera. I had such fun with it. I should get a new one. But after I pay internet, cable, and my phone bills. I got to find some cash for my dog too, he needs his monthly medicine, not to mention the yearly shots the clinic claims he must get.
I missed the season premiere of 'Criminal Minds' and it saddens me. But the tension was smothering me where I was at, and I couldn't stay a moment longer than it took to put my shoes back on. I'm sorry BJ. I just can't figure out if you dislike the standing between us or if I'm just being ridiculous. I didn't have enough fun Friday night, otherwise, I'm most certain I wouldn't be worried like I am presently. I wouldn't care. I thought I could talk to him about it tonight, but the words simply would not transfer from my mind to my mouth and out into the open. So we sat, for about three hours or so, hardly saying anything. I miss how we used to be. I miss him showing up at my stoop and the two of us talking and laughing on my swing during the late hours of the night. I miss being able to have a good time. So why the sudden disinterest in me, if that is what it is. It's been nearly six months, how much longer should I expect before he's makes a committing move? I don't know what I want concerning him, what I want from him. Then again, I don't know what I want from life itself.
I'm considering a tattoo. Or maybe a piercing. (Because those are so not overdone *insert eye roll*). An old class mate of mine is a tattoo artist and I want to do something drastic, something out of character for me. He even said he never imagined me getting a tattoo. I was hurt by that statement, but it's true. The me he knew and first met would never have dreamed of getting one. Much less bounced the idea around and surfed the internet for ideas, which I have done. I want a new me. I don't like whom I've become. And I'm on my way to change. No one knows about it, though, so we'll keep this our little secret.
Secrets. Now there's something I never stocked much worth in. Maybe if I had some of my own, my singular, individual ones, that had no connection to family or such, maybe I'd have more belief in them. I'd have something of my own to protect, similar to the black leather bound journal I have all but abandoned. Not unlike my creative writing. Sure I post prompts from here once in a while, and I take my spiral Mead practically everywhere I go, but let's face the facts, I haven't written, well, anything since the most recent pay-per-view and a month before that night for the piece before that. I don't know where my drive has gone to, but you happen to see it, please do send it my regards.
Da is under the impression I won't be moving out within in the next two years, anyone else thinking along those lines? I was threatened with an ultimatum just before he returned. Three options; get into school, get a job, or move out. This 'startling threat' occurred one night when mum was giving me grief but getting things done. Considering I've paid for a number of bills without a job, you'd think she'd be off my case, but no, that's just not good enough. Not when her precious boy isn't paying for a damn thing. For the last nine months he's been given everything he's wanted, on a silver platter no less. When electric bills were to be paid, he got minutes for the phone he doesn't even use. When we get extra money in the mail, he's the one who's taken out to dinner, and I'm the one home wondering where the fuck everyone went. It just frustrates me endlessly. My fingers are curling in rage at the thoughts of how she's chosen him over me so many times.
But I don't have time to go into that, and even if I did, I wouldn't. Because, unlike my mum, I know better than to air out my dirty laundry to the whole fucking world. Honestly, and I know this is a horrible thing to say, but I wish she'd be struck mute. Then she wouldn't be able to clue every-freakin-body into our business that they've got no business in knowing.
I think I'll skip Sunday. I'm tired of their bullshit anyways.