An everyday
I feel like I should start posting every day. So that I can have some semblance of a record of my life with codes that I won't understand when I'm older. It's a silly idea. I'll try for today and perhaps move to written journal when I realize that I can't post what I want to for fear of being exposed down to my ratty slippers.
School! What a lovely waste of time that fluctuates between usefulness and uselessness, fun and folly, friends and idiots.
I can't get a hold of anyone that I need to talk to about tailoring my program.
I've found myself a new room to work in. It's the storage room upstairs with the record player. I can shut the door and not fall asleep and hopefully go mad. Mad to the point where hard work isn't a decision anymore, just a compulsion.
I'm having weird dreams about people I never anticipated dreaming about. Perhaps it is directly representative of having a life containing a quality I never thought I would obtain in terms of unfiltered, honest happiness.
It's like I've stripped the wood-panelling and shag carpeting out of an old den and am now lying on the unfinished concrete eating lollipops and constructing a puppet-theatre in the night.
I have to declare that I am in love with an old pair of slippers that I found in the basement. They are clean and keep my feet warm. So hush. I don't care that they're hideous.
School! What a lovely waste of time that fluctuates between usefulness and uselessness, fun and folly, friends and idiots.
I can't get a hold of anyone that I need to talk to about tailoring my program.
I've found myself a new room to work in. It's the storage room upstairs with the record player. I can shut the door and not fall asleep and hopefully go mad. Mad to the point where hard work isn't a decision anymore, just a compulsion.
I'm having weird dreams about people I never anticipated dreaming about. Perhaps it is directly representative of having a life containing a quality I never thought I would obtain in terms of unfiltered, honest happiness.
It's like I've stripped the wood-panelling and shag carpeting out of an old den and am now lying on the unfinished concrete eating lollipops and constructing a puppet-theatre in the night.
I have to declare that I am in love with an old pair of slippers that I found in the basement. They are clean and keep my feet warm. So hush. I don't care that they're hideous.