if things are looking up, why am i still down?
Weeks go by in a blur of Starbucks' Christmas Blend, and all of a sudden I have a day off and I'm staring at a paycheck that says I've gone seven hours into overtime, but the total still isn't enough money to nourish my sad, sad bank account.
Calls to JGro, calls from Jamaal, messages to Meg and messages from Jamie have been more appreciated than they know. And finally, a break from the bitter fucking Chicago cold has yielded gorgeous snow. I finally found the one thing to appreciate about this glorified suburb. I forgot that snow isn't always a brown slush masquerading as ice just off the curb. It's lovely and powdery. And my house smells like Christmas, thanks to a 7' scotch pine.
In response to your tag, Jenni dearest, I present the following:
7.Guster/Demon
6.Blur/No distance left to run
5.Sloan/I can feel it
4.Death Cab/Champagne from a paper cup
3.Bowie/Life on mars
2.Ben Folds/Evaporated (i've mastered the bass line)
and, for the classy side of me:
1.Vivaldi/Concerto in G minor for two celli
The last of which has soundly beaten me into the realization that I don't play very well anymore. I guess a year of neglect will do that.
Happy belated, Nathan, Roomie John, and Canada. But mostly Nathan.
Fear of failure is a reasonable excuse for going nowhere in life, but there's no explaining missing someone's birthday. My apologies.
The holidays are too fucking expensive.
If somebody offered me drugs, I would accept. For now, I suppose, this steady diet of cigarette and coffee will have to suffice.
Calls to JGro, calls from Jamaal, messages to Meg and messages from Jamie have been more appreciated than they know. And finally, a break from the bitter fucking Chicago cold has yielded gorgeous snow. I finally found the one thing to appreciate about this glorified suburb. I forgot that snow isn't always a brown slush masquerading as ice just off the curb. It's lovely and powdery. And my house smells like Christmas, thanks to a 7' scotch pine.
In response to your tag, Jenni dearest, I present the following:
7.Guster/Demon
6.Blur/No distance left to run
5.Sloan/I can feel it
4.Death Cab/Champagne from a paper cup
3.Bowie/Life on mars
2.Ben Folds/Evaporated (i've mastered the bass line)
and, for the classy side of me:
1.Vivaldi/Concerto in G minor for two celli
The last of which has soundly beaten me into the realization that I don't play very well anymore. I guess a year of neglect will do that.
Happy belated, Nathan, Roomie John, and Canada. But mostly Nathan.
Fear of failure is a reasonable excuse for going nowhere in life, but there's no explaining missing someone's birthday. My apologies.
The holidays are too fucking expensive.
If somebody offered me drugs, I would accept. For now, I suppose, this steady diet of cigarette and coffee will have to suffice.