(no subject)
you'd figure by now, i'd be able to get to bed at a reasonable hour. i'm screwed this weekend, when i try to get up for easter brunch. my dad dispises people who sleep past 10am. i'm still unsure if my brother and i really are his biological children.
i had christina and daryl over for dinner yesterday, we had ribs, which i over-cooked, some french fries (which i decided i'd pan fry because the oven was in use) and those were mushy. the salad was okay, and we had some beer that daryl brought over, but it just succeeded in giving me a stomach ache. (it def was not the cheez-its i consumed at 4am. no. that's not the cause at all.)
i stayed up downloading some music, and when i got bored with downloading the newest in brazillian jazz artists, i headed straight for my ps2 to finish my video game. so i beat it (just now as a matter of fact) and realized i'm too emotionally involved in LIFE, so i should stop divulging into disgusting fantasies, because i do know i have trouble with that. when i finish books, i cry. movies, i cry. mini-series? tear fest. i can't help it. i get so attached to the storylines, and then i get bummed out when it's over. obviously i would like the more interesting happenings of books/music/tv/movies/videogames to be my life, therefore embracing these rich fantasies tends to make me a little saddened. it occurs to me this sounds amazingly pathetic. but, truthfully? i'm okay with that. everyone knows movies are better than life. life is boooooring. anyway, it's over, i'm bummed (even though it was really good), and now i must find something else to do with my time. (which will most likely be moping, not mopping, but i guess the latter might serve better than the former because my floor is turning my feet grey.)
i still blame the atrocity that is my current lifestyle on the fact that my mother made me watch mr. rogers. land of fucking make-believe. you've ruined my life. (but heniretta the cat remains my heroine, even tho she was a lying sack of shit.)
i'm still baffled by the exchange (if it can be called that, i believe the only words i uttered were--'i'm cold, i'm getting in my car') the other day of "have a nice life and good luck in all your endeavors", a sentence of which i was the recieving end of on a surreal day at the end of march, at the charleston rest stop on I-90 from someone i once, and now no longer(?) considered to be a good friend. i have been amazingly dull on the subject, no desire to follow up on it, because honestly, at this age, if we can't cut through all the bullshit and get to the heart of matters, then i suppose it's not really worth my time anyway.
i suppose now i'm off to bed. it's light out, so i feel safe and secure, and i might not even have to turn on the tv to sleep. but most likely i will.
i had christina and daryl over for dinner yesterday, we had ribs, which i over-cooked, some french fries (which i decided i'd pan fry because the oven was in use) and those were mushy. the salad was okay, and we had some beer that daryl brought over, but it just succeeded in giving me a stomach ache. (it def was not the cheez-its i consumed at 4am. no. that's not the cause at all.)
i stayed up downloading some music, and when i got bored with downloading the newest in brazillian jazz artists, i headed straight for my ps2 to finish my video game. so i beat it (just now as a matter of fact) and realized i'm too emotionally involved in LIFE, so i should stop divulging into disgusting fantasies, because i do know i have trouble with that. when i finish books, i cry. movies, i cry. mini-series? tear fest. i can't help it. i get so attached to the storylines, and then i get bummed out when it's over. obviously i would like the more interesting happenings of books/music/tv/movies/videogames to be my life, therefore embracing these rich fantasies tends to make me a little saddened. it occurs to me this sounds amazingly pathetic. but, truthfully? i'm okay with that. everyone knows movies are better than life. life is boooooring. anyway, it's over, i'm bummed (even though it was really good), and now i must find something else to do with my time. (which will most likely be moping, not mopping, but i guess the latter might serve better than the former because my floor is turning my feet grey.)
i still blame the atrocity that is my current lifestyle on the fact that my mother made me watch mr. rogers. land of fucking make-believe. you've ruined my life. (but heniretta the cat remains my heroine, even tho she was a lying sack of shit.)
i'm still baffled by the exchange (if it can be called that, i believe the only words i uttered were--'i'm cold, i'm getting in my car') the other day of "have a nice life and good luck in all your endeavors", a sentence of which i was the recieving end of on a surreal day at the end of march, at the charleston rest stop on I-90 from someone i once, and now no longer(?) considered to be a good friend. i have been amazingly dull on the subject, no desire to follow up on it, because honestly, at this age, if we can't cut through all the bullshit and get to the heart of matters, then i suppose it's not really worth my time anyway.
i suppose now i'm off to bed. it's light out, so i feel safe and secure, and i might not even have to turn on the tv to sleep. but most likely i will.