N weee

I love having days off. Who doesn't like not having to work? You can get all that shit done that you wanted to do, or in my case, lay around the house. All fucking day! Though I did get my ass in gear long enough to clean my bathroom. I'm still in my pajamas though, and I just don't give a fuck.

I have to be up before 6 to be prepared for radio time. I've been doing this show for almost three years, and I still think it's a huge pain in the ass to be up that early. The only time I enjoy it is the two hours we are on the air. Even then, I don't do nearly enough prep beforehand and I feel it every week when we hit a dead talking point or I find myself repeating shit just for something to say. I could be so much better, but as always I lack the motivation to excel at anything.

One of my dearest friends is off for a week's stay at the Mayo clinic tomorrow. I'm glad I'm not sick all the time like she is, and that when I am sick I at least know why. I don't understand how she laughs through everything all the time, but that's probably why I love her.

Um.. tomorrow I get shit done.

Last night I was awake until 6am. I think it may be possible to bore yourself into wakefulness. That is the only explanation...that or the failure pile I had before bed, with the medium cola.

Tomorrow I try. Tonight, I sleep.

Terreur

Today was a repeat of yesterday. It's awesome. I've put off grocery shopping to the point where I have only pasta and sauce left. Tomorrow I will get shit done, I tell myself. I don't understand this lack of ambition.

I'm wary of whose eyes are seeing this right now. Daisy did a dumb thing and exposed this blog to eyes I wouldn't normally have wanted on it. I never advertised this to anyone I knew. I started this with the understanding that strangers would read it, and that was comforting. Anything but the social circle I was stuck in at the time. Readers became friends, and that was okay. Friends did not become readers. I spent a few days reading everything I wrote here in chronological order. I gave up somewhere in 2006 but stopped myself from deleting a lot of stuff. A lot, but not all. I don't feel bad about that either. I'm not done, and soon I'll get through the rest of it with a scalpel and be satisfied.
While cleaning out my bookshelf I found my old journal that was purchased for me by my dad while I was in 5th grade to improve my handwriting. Everyday he would check it to make sure I wrote in it so it's full of bullshit entries that I kept up until he got bored and forgot to check anymore. When teenagerdom hit it actually got used more often, but mostly when I was going through the bullshit emotional trauma of the time. In highschool there a large lull and then after that it was only used when I was going through what I felt was major shit. All that said, there is a good chunk of it torwards the end that is still empty.
So I found this relic of brain vomit and opened to a few random pages. The words on the page were still fresh in my mind, and I hated that. So I destroyed it. Page after page came out in my hands to be ripped in half and then quarters and then eighths if I felt like it. Some of the pages stayed in tact because I just didn't feel like ripping shit up. I left a few scattered entries in what is now a tattered hardcover with the strings hanging out and a bunch of loose pages tucked back inside.
The garbage bag went into the dumpster and that was that. Goodbye memory.

And bit by bit, I want the rest of my brain to be cleaned.

I haven't left the house today. I haven't cleaned my room. I haven't done shit.

I did however, do my taxes. Fuck yeah!

I've felt like shit for the last little while. I don't know why exactly, could just be the Februaryness floating around. Beyond the fact that I'm starting school, I just keep looking at my life and realizing that I haven't changed a thing in the last two years. Well, wheels were made to spin.

I forgot why I wanted to post anything.