hazyville
this depression business has got to end.
i wonder why i can't find a girl as i wallow in such piteous self-loathing longing desperately for love to come along while i don't do anything about going out and finding it. even if i fail miserably, looking's enough of a distraction for now, eh?
speaking of distractions, i've been sleeping so much in school lately.
well, i suppose that's not really speaking of distractions, but for how little i care about or participate in classes, i sure seem to spend an inordinate amount of time mulling over them.
so i've resolved that i'm long past the time for self-pity and it's time to finally get around to making some changes.
accordingly, i've got a few leap year resolutions.
my first resolution is to quit being so down on myself.
nextly i will score a job at a record store, even if it's one forty minutes away.
third, i'm going to get into fighting shape. i have a lingering suspicion that the tkd/hapkido punk i was in seventh grade could wipe the floor with the long-idle, barely functional 160 pounds of fluff i am today.
in addition i'm going to create much more. write, draw, compose, film, i don't want to leave this place without anything to show for myself.
what i need most of all is a talkboy fx plus [see: childhood].
i came up with a bunch more of these one of those lazy saturday mornings when it's nice to just lay in bed and think, without too firm a stance on consciousness. pity i've lost track of most of them, though.
i think borders' music department is no longer independently staffed. and yu baba told me that they don't hire under-eighteeners there, though they didn't say anything when i submitted my application. i don't particularly want to work alongside kids who don't know the difference between belle & sebastian and captain & tennille, though, so i suppose the mall bid is out. for now i guess it's "coconuts, here i come."
i love to read my friends' weblogs, and i feel as if some truly merit a response, but lately i've no idea what to say. every comment i'm about to write suddenly strikes me as utterly buffoonish, so i've not been saying much. apologies, chaps.
shamo is fucking amazing.
i've not been so stirred since deep river, and shamo somehow managed such without words.
ask me about it sometime.
i wonder why i can't find a girl as i wallow in such piteous self-loathing longing desperately for love to come along while i don't do anything about going out and finding it. even if i fail miserably, looking's enough of a distraction for now, eh?
speaking of distractions, i've been sleeping so much in school lately.
well, i suppose that's not really speaking of distractions, but for how little i care about or participate in classes, i sure seem to spend an inordinate amount of time mulling over them.
so i've resolved that i'm long past the time for self-pity and it's time to finally get around to making some changes.
accordingly, i've got a few leap year resolutions.
my first resolution is to quit being so down on myself.
nextly i will score a job at a record store, even if it's one forty minutes away.
third, i'm going to get into fighting shape. i have a lingering suspicion that the tkd/hapkido punk i was in seventh grade could wipe the floor with the long-idle, barely functional 160 pounds of fluff i am today.
in addition i'm going to create much more. write, draw, compose, film, i don't want to leave this place without anything to show for myself.
what i need most of all is a talkboy fx plus [see: childhood].
i came up with a bunch more of these one of those lazy saturday mornings when it's nice to just lay in bed and think, without too firm a stance on consciousness. pity i've lost track of most of them, though.
i think borders' music department is no longer independently staffed. and yu baba told me that they don't hire under-eighteeners there, though they didn't say anything when i submitted my application. i don't particularly want to work alongside kids who don't know the difference between belle & sebastian and captain & tennille, though, so i suppose the mall bid is out. for now i guess it's "coconuts, here i come."
i love to read my friends' weblogs, and i feel as if some truly merit a response, but lately i've no idea what to say. every comment i'm about to write suddenly strikes me as utterly buffoonish, so i've not been saying much. apologies, chaps.
shamo is fucking amazing.
i've not been so stirred since deep river, and shamo somehow managed such without words.
ask me about it sometime.