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The day ends, on an acrimonious note.
paramoremusic is choking up my friends page. I know fan love as fan love and everything else from pictures to ramblings to digital confetti, but two/three posts per page is overwhelming, especially when I'd rather read something new other than band-specific news. A little is alright, but this has become a deluge.
trypanophobic34 's photoshoot as Red Riding Hood is breathtaking.
I wish I could sew, design, draw, write music, figure out where everything seems to land before they do, write decent poems I would be unashamed of, speak out with such conviction and self-confidence I no longer feel as if I am retarded, socially awkward and obtusive, and know many math equations by heart, among other things. Life rarely goes as according to plan as one wishes.
I need to do something relaxing. The only time I get to read something decent are the minutes I use up outside a classroom waiting for the previous class to evacuate, and the book usually ends up with crumpled cover from being sandwiches between a calculator and a file in a bag all day long and stuffed back into its deep recesses. I feel almost detached. I need the books in my life; and without them it seems so emptied of anything extraordinary.
Project Work had started. I badly need to do work before someone does more work than I do: simply because being a group leader makes saddling a certain degree of stress mandatory, and if I do not it drives me crazy trying to get everything together in a sane piece, and the depression doubles exponentially every time I fail.