usual OH GOD I'M OLD bullshit
1. i am 26. for about the last 50 minutes, so it hasn't really sunk in. i just remember consoling amanda three weeks ago, after she started crying about the fact that she was turning 30 in a week and how she was afraid to get old, and now i'm sure i'm close to that emotional frenzy, but for totally different reasons. i mean, hell, i've always wanted to be either dead at 25 or an ornery old codger. morbid? maybe, but not unreasonable. only thing is, i've always wanted to be an accomplished person, and i don't think having a very fucking weird life is the same thing as having accomplished my life goals. i am not yet a lawyer, i have not decided to switch to journalism from poli sci, and i have not yet helped anybody make their lives better. things to do.
2. i am 26. and of course, i am having my first cigarette of my new year pounding furiously on the keyboard. i'm kind of worried i'm going to be one of those people who, at 30, comes home after work late at night to an empty apartment and eats dinner from a half-empty carton of low-mein just staring into the fridge with the kitchen lights off.
3. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit holy shit. i survived my 25th year! ties with 17 and 23 as my hardest year ever. started with getting punched out by a girlfriend, ended with somewhat of a rebirth. i have to say, 25 was a monumental year. and now i'm twentygoddamnsix years old. this might just be the best year of my life.
4. i'm 42, and i'm george carlin.
other than that, i've got some stuff to say but it would turn the "small brown vagrant" journal into the "i hate amanda/i love amanda but i really do hate her/what a mindfuck girls are" journal, so we can safely skip that shit, at least for today. god, i think my heart's racing. i'm old!
OH. and all my fucking hair is gone because i asked for 3 inches cut off and instead i got 7 inches removed by a number 3 razor. BALD AT 26/42
2. i am 26. and of course, i am having my first cigarette of my new year pounding furiously on the keyboard. i'm kind of worried i'm going to be one of those people who, at 30, comes home after work late at night to an empty apartment and eats dinner from a half-empty carton of low-mein just staring into the fridge with the kitchen lights off.
3. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit holy shit. i survived my 25th year! ties with 17 and 23 as my hardest year ever. started with getting punched out by a girlfriend, ended with somewhat of a rebirth. i have to say, 25 was a monumental year. and now i'm twentygoddamnsix years old. this might just be the best year of my life.
4. i'm 42, and i'm george carlin.
other than that, i've got some stuff to say but it would turn the "small brown vagrant" journal into the "i hate amanda/i love amanda but i really do hate her/what a mindfuck girls are" journal, so we can safely skip that shit, at least for today. god, i think my heart's racing. i'm old!
OH. and all my fucking hair is gone because i asked for 3 inches cut off and instead i got 7 inches removed by a number 3 razor. BALD AT 26/42