A few not-so-random thoughts.
I haven't been a very, mellifluous, or even fluent writer lately.
I still haven't called Keith back. Fuck.
I get way too many "teen" magazines. Everything in them is so full of shit; I enjoy the fashion in them. It gives me ideas. And their ignorance in just about every informative article they attempt to produce so as to seem like an intelligent magazine gives me something to send letters in ranting about.
Speaking of which, I fucking can't stand Lindsay Lohan. What the fuck kind of name is "Lindsay," anyway? Sheesh.
I never finish what I start. Ever. Never ever ever ever. I've got tons of sketches, including the outlines of my hands, the outlines of the human profile, eyes, noses, half of a syringe, and even the outline of a lobster claw, but barely any finished products. I never even finished that picture of dawna. It was going so good, too, but of course, I just had to go and jot someone's number down on it, without realizing what paper it was.
I have so many pieces of jewelry started, but without a finished product.
I started playing the bass, but never followed through with it. Flute? Besides band camp, I haven't played in fuck long. I haven't taken steady private lessons in...two years. Same with bass. I never practice. Ever. Fuck. I'm such a failure.
My eyes are very weird. They are absolutely horrid without make-up. I'm told that they are very vivid, bright, and occasionally even "beautiful," but I don't think this at all. They have an odd, ominous stare to them. Others compliment me on it, and some get the wrong impression, just from how they look, I presume. I often find people saying that their first impression of me was that I "didn't like them at all," and when I ask why they would think such a thing, they reply that I give them "dirty looks." I never do, on purpose, anyway. It's a wonder what a pair of eyes can make people think.
My nose isn't huge, but proportionately, I think I have a pretty big nose. It's definitely my father's nose. I can't stand my nose.
No matter the personality, I always have chemistry with those with generally the same physical features: tall, slim, broad shoulders, very fair-skinned, dark brown hair, and deep, dark, piercing brown eyes. Usually.
My chair is broken. When in it, it feels as though I'm a puppet, being suspended by strings in an awkward and misshapen, puppet-like stance.
I think I'm developing something in my right hand. Not sure exactly what is developing, but I know of it's existence.
Keith has called! Jump for joy!
I still haven't developed my film yet. I really should go do that.
I still haven't called Keith back. Fuck.
I get way too many "teen" magazines. Everything in them is so full of shit; I enjoy the fashion in them. It gives me ideas. And their ignorance in just about every informative article they attempt to produce so as to seem like an intelligent magazine gives me something to send letters in ranting about.
Speaking of which, I fucking can't stand Lindsay Lohan. What the fuck kind of name is "Lindsay," anyway? Sheesh.
I never finish what I start. Ever. Never ever ever ever. I've got tons of sketches, including the outlines of my hands, the outlines of the human profile, eyes, noses, half of a syringe, and even the outline of a lobster claw, but barely any finished products. I never even finished that picture of dawna. It was going so good, too, but of course, I just had to go and jot someone's number down on it, without realizing what paper it was.
I have so many pieces of jewelry started, but without a finished product.
I started playing the bass, but never followed through with it. Flute? Besides band camp, I haven't played in fuck long. I haven't taken steady private lessons in...two years. Same with bass. I never practice. Ever. Fuck. I'm such a failure.
My eyes are very weird. They are absolutely horrid without make-up. I'm told that they are very vivid, bright, and occasionally even "beautiful," but I don't think this at all. They have an odd, ominous stare to them. Others compliment me on it, and some get the wrong impression, just from how they look, I presume. I often find people saying that their first impression of me was that I "didn't like them at all," and when I ask why they would think such a thing, they reply that I give them "dirty looks." I never do, on purpose, anyway. It's a wonder what a pair of eyes can make people think.
My nose isn't huge, but proportionately, I think I have a pretty big nose. It's definitely my father's nose. I can't stand my nose.
No matter the personality, I always have chemistry with those with generally the same physical features: tall, slim, broad shoulders, very fair-skinned, dark brown hair, and deep, dark, piercing brown eyes. Usually.
My chair is broken. When in it, it feels as though I'm a puppet, being suspended by strings in an awkward and misshapen, puppet-like stance.
I think I'm developing something in my right hand. Not sure exactly what is developing, but I know of it's existence.
Keith has called! Jump for joy!
I still haven't developed my film yet. I really should go do that.