Days off are blessings.
A commercial at work informed me today that "the best things in life are free: the sun, the beach, hanging out" I added: "starving".
Because, really, what's better than that?
I think when I go, that's how I'll do it. It'll be on my terms. Sorta.
I don't know either.
I wrote ...I guess 8 years ago... that I was tired of being a freak. And for a while, I stopped being one. I more or less adapted to the Borgian society of just being a good little consumer. Now, though, I'm back to freakville.
Speaking of freakville - there's a city (probably several) in one of those Eastern states called Lynchsburg. Why would anyone live there? Would anybody choose to reside in a city called Rapesville? Or Murdertown? I think not. Or, actually, yeah, I guess people would. Sometimes I find the amount of dislike I have for the human race is astounding.
Maybe it's the ...what's the word? "Cognitive dissonance", I believe it's called... maybe it's because we're all suffering from a huge (I mean huge) case of cognitive dissonance. Because we keep attempting to tell ourselves that money isn't the most important thing, but then we act as though it is. Because what are you gonna do - starve?
My mind is too jumbled with negative thoughts. I've been storing them up for the past ...however long... and now that I'm blogging, I can't get them out fast enough or in a linear..ish fashion. I apologize for that. Hopefully some of what I'm saying is making a modicum of sense. ("What's a modicum?")
I can't breathe. Heh. Liz Phair is in my head now. "Why can't I breathe, whenever I think about you?" I was going to use that song lyric question in a boq someday. Guess I still can.
Funniest thing ever! - At work, there's a reporter who ...blah. Long story short - He mistyped something on a sheet of paper that he was reading from. It was in regard to the ever lovely, "War on Terrorism". He had typed "War on Tourism".
God, if only.
I have the ability to ...er. Nevermind. Sometimes it's better to not play your hand so soon. Ya know?
My throat still hurts. The fuck?
Sometimes...this is so wrong. God, no wonder I'm not a writer.
It's almost December, moving on to other news (not that I've said anything I wanted to), so that's ...something. I need to email both Jupe and Heath. Bout different things, but now I've reminded myself to do so. Of course, it'll have to wait til tomorrow, since I can't switch over to my mail yet. (We're downloading music)
I'm only on page 34 of Paula. Hrm.
Well, this was a jumbled maelstrom of an entry, but I'm starving (ha!) so I guess it'll have to do.
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