(no subject)
My eyes hurt. Having contacts in for, oh, 38 hours straight might not be the best of plans.
Sleeping is, though.
I find typing rather difficult lately. It's like my hands are too tired, all the time, and can't function as well. Driving was oddly difficult today, too, for some reason, and I drove a lot, so that's semi-concerning.
I got [too] drunk last night and woke up with various bruises and a headache. Alcohol frightens me, sometimes. Last night falls under that category, maybe.
I'm not sure.
I'm not really sure what defines "fun" anymore either, so that's a little tricky.
Living at home is both comforting and frustrating. It's bizarre how quickly I can fall back into patterns that I've had for the last five years in this house. It makes me feel lethargic and lazy. I watch more TV here, and snack more, too.
Go see Knocked Up. I liked it. You will, too.
It's amazing to me both how easy it is for one to die, and also how much we can go through and still live. It's like we're shatterproof plates, like the blue, flowery ones we used to have in my kitchen in Big Lake. Once, when I was in third grade, I took a stack of them out from our cupboard, which was high up (I had to stand out the counter just to reach it). I felt them slip, and did a classic clown-style gesture, attempting to grab them, but only getting air. The whole stack--all five of them--collectively bounced twice before shattering, shards flying above my eight-year-old head.
Afterward, my sister scolded me, as big sisters are apt to do, and my mom made me stay on the counter--I was barefoot--as she swept up the remains.
I leave for NYC in exactly three weeks. Any suggestions on what I must see?
I've started working at Macy's. Um. Yeah.
But, all in all, I am really happy, maybe. Rethinking the diction, maybe content fits better. But am I?
I dunno.
Meh, don't seem to care, either.
Reading helps.
Good? Good.
Sleeping is, though.
I find typing rather difficult lately. It's like my hands are too tired, all the time, and can't function as well. Driving was oddly difficult today, too, for some reason, and I drove a lot, so that's semi-concerning.
I got [too] drunk last night and woke up with various bruises and a headache. Alcohol frightens me, sometimes. Last night falls under that category, maybe.
I'm not sure.
I'm not really sure what defines "fun" anymore either, so that's a little tricky.
Living at home is both comforting and frustrating. It's bizarre how quickly I can fall back into patterns that I've had for the last five years in this house. It makes me feel lethargic and lazy. I watch more TV here, and snack more, too.
Go see Knocked Up. I liked it. You will, too.
It's amazing to me both how easy it is for one to die, and also how much we can go through and still live. It's like we're shatterproof plates, like the blue, flowery ones we used to have in my kitchen in Big Lake. Once, when I was in third grade, I took a stack of them out from our cupboard, which was high up (I had to stand out the counter just to reach it). I felt them slip, and did a classic clown-style gesture, attempting to grab them, but only getting air. The whole stack--all five of them--collectively bounced twice before shattering, shards flying above my eight-year-old head.
Afterward, my sister scolded me, as big sisters are apt to do, and my mom made me stay on the counter--I was barefoot--as she swept up the remains.
I leave for NYC in exactly three weeks. Any suggestions on what I must see?
I've started working at Macy's. Um. Yeah.
But, all in all, I am really happy, maybe. Rethinking the diction, maybe content fits better. But am I?
I dunno.
Meh, don't seem to care, either.
Reading helps.
Good? Good.