Such Hypocritical Hindsight.
Today was exceptionally strange. In fact, it was that brand of bizarre that movies are made of. Oddly enough, it snowed through last night. I awoke to two, maybe four, inches of snow (I'd know, had I been awkwardly carrying a ruler) and a two-hour delayed start at school. Yeah, leave it to my high school to keep the doors open at any and all costs. So I stayed home. I just couldn't go back, not yet.
I actually watched an hour of Dane Cook's HBO special. I never wanted to like him, largely because he always appeared to be simply physical comedy, and I don't really go for that kind of limit. I'm more for a mental humor, if I had to choose, I guess. But I digress; it was really funny. It was okay, looking like a mess and watching a stranger tell me how to make the best of a bad lie. I'm not sure if I grew or regressed in that hour. "Both, always both." Why not?
Other than that, I really just wrote some articles about more local car crashes for Driver Ed. My personal favorite is about this guy who used an inflatable dummy as a passenger so he could ride in the HOV lane. Evidently, he was caught. Go figure.
I downloaded AFI's cover of "Ziggy Stardust" and listened to it more times than is healthy. I also listened to the fantastic tracks I got from Courtney (
burnlikestars) and more of Life Less Lived: The Gothic Box. I think it was a comfortably dark day. That's a strange thought, isn't it?
Concerts I'm currently looking forward to (you know, as if I have a way to pay for tickets): The Killers (April), Guster (April), Voxtrot (June), Thursday (March), and Anti-Flag with The Explosion and Alexisonfire (March). I'm kind of bummed that I can't see John Mayer, Xiu Xiu, or The Police. And more, and more. Music never seems to burn itself out. I'm burned out. My back is killing me since shoveling the driveway this afternoon. It's times like these that I almost wished I lived with a man. I mean, very nearly.
I finally need a job. Babysitting gigs have been less and less frequent. I'm too young for the right jobs, and too picky for the wrong jobs. It's all conditional, I guess. Someday, I will fit. Those words sound vacant when said aloud.
I came up with the best concept for a story (a novel, if I'm being arrogant) today. Don't even ask how. I couldn't tell you any more than I could tell myself. It's called "There May Be Cake."
I don't understand how sometimes, and only sometimes, the good can be so awful, and the terrible can be so great. On another note, personality is hard to come by, so why copy someone else? Why is it so hard to be as loved as you are lovely? Please tell me if you've got answers to these weighty questions. I'd write them down and keep them close. I've got drops in my ears right now so I can't hear my phone ringing or the voice mail I'll be stuck with when I next wake up.
Let the mourners through. "We'll carry on." If it continues to snow, I'll be here. California dreaming never made me so sad.
I actually watched an hour of Dane Cook's HBO special. I never wanted to like him, largely because he always appeared to be simply physical comedy, and I don't really go for that kind of limit. I'm more for a mental humor, if I had to choose, I guess. But I digress; it was really funny. It was okay, looking like a mess and watching a stranger tell me how to make the best of a bad lie. I'm not sure if I grew or regressed in that hour. "Both, always both." Why not?
Other than that, I really just wrote some articles about more local car crashes for Driver Ed. My personal favorite is about this guy who used an inflatable dummy as a passenger so he could ride in the HOV lane. Evidently, he was caught. Go figure.
I downloaded AFI's cover of "Ziggy Stardust" and listened to it more times than is healthy. I also listened to the fantastic tracks I got from Courtney (
burnlikestars) and more of Life Less Lived: The Gothic Box. I think it was a comfortably dark day. That's a strange thought, isn't it?
Concerts I'm currently looking forward to (you know, as if I have a way to pay for tickets): The Killers (April), Guster (April), Voxtrot (June), Thursday (March), and Anti-Flag with The Explosion and Alexisonfire (March). I'm kind of bummed that I can't see John Mayer, Xiu Xiu, or The Police. And more, and more. Music never seems to burn itself out. I'm burned out. My back is killing me since shoveling the driveway this afternoon. It's times like these that I almost wished I lived with a man. I mean, very nearly.
I finally need a job. Babysitting gigs have been less and less frequent. I'm too young for the right jobs, and too picky for the wrong jobs. It's all conditional, I guess. Someday, I will fit. Those words sound vacant when said aloud.
I came up with the best concept for a story (a novel, if I'm being arrogant) today. Don't even ask how. I couldn't tell you any more than I could tell myself. It's called "There May Be Cake."
I don't understand how sometimes, and only sometimes, the good can be so awful, and the terrible can be so great. On another note, personality is hard to come by, so why copy someone else? Why is it so hard to be as loved as you are lovely? Please tell me if you've got answers to these weighty questions. I'd write them down and keep them close. I've got drops in my ears right now so I can't hear my phone ringing or the voice mail I'll be stuck with when I next wake up.
Let the mourners through. "We'll carry on." If it continues to snow, I'll be here. California dreaming never made me so sad.