Thurs, Jan. 22
... Laugh like it's your favorite game
This is for
Laurel, because apparently she read the last one three times.
I'm so impatient. That's what I hate most about ebay--I don't want to wait 4 days to bid on an item. I want it now! Heh. Probably a good thing that I don't get it right away--it weeds out some of the stuff that I really don't need.
I shouldn't be sitting at the computer. I should be at the gym right now. Really. I should. And I keep telling myself that I'm on my way there, but we'll see if I get there before it's time to pick Logan up.
I think I'm going to start gushing soon. There's something about admitting that gushing may start that begins to make the dam break. That's the crappy thing about it. Once it starts, the process is a lot faster than the first little cracks in the wall.
No gushing! None allowed! This sucks! Grrr....
I wish I could tell myself what to do, and follow my own advice as easily as I give it. Of course, though, it's always a different situation when it's me. I can't be expected to do what I tell other people to do, right? Absolutely not! Heh. I'm such a dork.
There is no gushing. There will be no gushing.
Oy vey. I'm such a girl.
And that's all I'm going to say about that for now. Like I said. This entry's all for Laurel.
One year ago today: There are days when I feel like my life is just someone's idea of a practical joke. One of these days, someone's going to pull up the curtain, and all I'll see will be a backstage. My life laid out as a script; the scenes posted on the walls with set changes, light design, and sound cues. People in my life waiting in the wongs for their next entrance and, eventually, the final bow. The acknowledgement of what the audience already knew: This is all pretend.
infinite || abyss
posted at 8:16 p.m.
