All of the Sanguine Girls Remain Quiet, Unseen
I am sorry, Journal. I have left nothing but vague, shadowy entries for the last month or so, and I believe it is time to get back into a colorful writing mode. While in this new mode, I will utilize poignant adjectives and state the little things that matter most in journal entries. I surely don't want to fall upon this journal in a few months and be caught in wonder the meaning of an entry. So, with that said, I will probably write one good, descriptive, and substantial entry that will be followed by ten vague ones. Everything I want to do at the present moment will fade away and I will be left again in the same position. It always happens. What am I trying to say here? Nothing. I am not making sense anymore. I am just going to rant on for a few sentences and call it an entry. . . .
I think it is funny how my Mom wakes me up sometimes in the morning. You see, I don't have an alarm clock and I usually end up posting a sticky note on the side of the coffee maker before I go to sleep stating the time I would like to wake up. The coffee maker is the prime utility of choice for sticky note placement because coffee addicts, like my Mom, fall upon the Columbian bean machine without fail every morning. Anyway, I write with a color pencil boldly, "WAKE ME AT 7:45." I used to put "Love, Jeff" or something to let her know that it was me, but I think it has become an unspoken pact between her and I, and only her and I. So, it is clear that I am the stupid one with the alarm complex, and I need my Mom to wake me in the morning. I love her. All right, to get right to it, I am most often already awake by the time my Mom walks into my room to do the wake up procedure, but sometimes I am really asleep, it is just I need to be sure I am awake, so I ask her to confirm the "awake status" of myself. Thanks Mom. Thank you for waking me up every morning so I don't have to hear a horrid monotonous beep.
Among other things, life is great. I am almost done with yet another semester of school and I have to start seriously thinking of majors and transfer options. I am confused beyond belief at the moment, but I guess things will work out and if I become a homeless bum on the street, then I will make music and be happy. If I become a millionaire doing nothing in the business, science, engineering, or math side of the occupation spectrum, then yay. If I make 10 bucks a day, cool. I just want God, a loaf of bread, a shed, water, and friends. That's all I really need.
God is good to me.
Goodbye Ruffian.
Jeff
I think it is funny how my Mom wakes me up sometimes in the morning. You see, I don't have an alarm clock and I usually end up posting a sticky note on the side of the coffee maker before I go to sleep stating the time I would like to wake up. The coffee maker is the prime utility of choice for sticky note placement because coffee addicts, like my Mom, fall upon the Columbian bean machine without fail every morning. Anyway, I write with a color pencil boldly, "WAKE ME AT 7:45." I used to put "Love, Jeff" or something to let her know that it was me, but I think it has become an unspoken pact between her and I, and only her and I. So, it is clear that I am the stupid one with the alarm complex, and I need my Mom to wake me in the morning. I love her. All right, to get right to it, I am most often already awake by the time my Mom walks into my room to do the wake up procedure, but sometimes I am really asleep, it is just I need to be sure I am awake, so I ask her to confirm the "awake status" of myself. Thanks Mom. Thank you for waking me up every morning so I don't have to hear a horrid monotonous beep.
Among other things, life is great. I am almost done with yet another semester of school and I have to start seriously thinking of majors and transfer options. I am confused beyond belief at the moment, but I guess things will work out and if I become a homeless bum on the street, then I will make music and be happy. If I become a millionaire doing nothing in the business, science, engineering, or math side of the occupation spectrum, then yay. If I make 10 bucks a day, cool. I just want God, a loaf of bread, a shed, water, and friends. That's all I really need.
God is good to me.
Goodbye Ruffian.
Jeff