no · reason...

Lord, give me the strength to fold this laundry.

Early, early this morning I woke up in the spare bedroom which belongs to a Guinea Pig called Lucilla. I was lying on the floor on a pile of blankets that is always just lying on the floor in that room. However, I can't for the life of me understand why I would move from my own bed, through the bathroom, and into the second bedroom and throw myself down on the floor all while I was still asleep.

Why does Julianne Moore always play 50's housewives?

At present the American economy is in a position that does not provide the opportunity for me to acquire a job that is A)Not in a factory, B)Not in Fast-Food, and C)Pays more than six dollars an hour. Thusly, I am gainfully unemployed and probably shall remain so for many more months. This is sad. I have applied for several jobs and I can't help but wonder on the reasons why I wasn't given the position. I keep coming back to thought that it is probably because I have very little work experience. But honestly, how the hell are you supposed to get experience when you need experience to get a job in the first place? I bleed for non-college graduates right now. Cut my belly and watch my intestines spill out splatting on the pavement. This ship is sinkin' man, and there ain't no lifeboats left. The SS US always had too thin a hull.

I'm too young to hate the future.

Well, I'm depressed, but that's nothing new. Of course it isn't. I've been thinking. Perhaps I should become a hippy. You know, rove around the country taking LSD, singing the praises of free-love and peace and all that rot. But then again, I wouldn't believe any of it, but be doing it completely for the lazy lifestyle.

When it comes down to it, my life is really just a matter of motivation. Or, from my perspective, a lack thereof. I'm lazy. I've always been lazy and that's all I'll ever be.

I just want to run down a list of shit that is pissing me off right now. (This is a most scatter-brained entry)

1. I am too skinny.
2. I do not eat healthily enough.
3. I smoke too much.
4. I do too many drugs.
5. I do not exercise.
6. I do not read for pleasure.
7. My participation in school has declined.
8. My performance in school has dropped measurably.
9. I have extreme anxiety about the future.
10. I feel like I have no friends.
11. I have no significant other.
12. I'm just floating. Floating. Floating.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA;OIESN;OIGNA;OIVNEOAN;OSVA;AWEOOO82048A NVNNNSEOW23IO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well I haven't written in this thing in about six-hundred years.

Anyway, I'll just come out and say it.

I'm having a shitty time. A real shitty time. I pretty much hate everything about my life right. Jen is going to Afghanistan in September, the only person I ever felt like I had a chance at loving moved away, and I'm left here, melancholic and unable to perform basic algebra.

I feel like everything would be fine if only I could do calculus. If only I could do calculus...

PS. I'm sorry I haven't called anyone back, especially Amy and Mallory. I simply can't do it. I can't. I love you both very much, but right now you wouldn't want to talk to me. I'm not the person you know right now. Maybe I'll get back to normal. But it looks like a long shot for now.

So yeah, I'm at school again. House is all moved in and shit. All roommates will be together in the approximately twenty or so minutes until Jen gets here. I've already read 100 pages of Don Quixote today, which is fucking great, seeing as how I only have like ten more days to read it all before the first seminar of the year. Uh, Junior year may just be the death of me?

Kali gashed her head open real bad and I took her to the hospital yesterday. By the time we were done, (nine staples later and a few chats with a very nice Med Student named Chris) I was too tired and sort of upset at seeing her skull to attend the Harry Potter Midnight Release of the LAST Book.

I still don't have the book. I don't even know what the cover looks like.
I am so behind.
I'm ashamed of myself.

I haven't updated in a gajillion years. Anyway, so I heard on TV about Hitler's ideas for his SuperCity Germania after he beleived he would win the second world war. Well, he had a dome in mind, not just any dome, but a dome that would be over a thousand feet tall from floor to ceiling. This dome would be able to seat something like 200,000 people. It's believed that the condensation from all of those hot greedy German breaths would have risen up into the dome, cooled, and fall as rain. Hitler. Trying to make his own weather. Geesh.

Jeesh.

Uh, whoa? Livejournal looks like it has acquired all of these creepy new technological features. I hate new technological features.

Anyway, there's some dumb baby at my house and it has been crying and crying for hours and hours and I'm going to kill and kill it. BabyRoast anyone?
I didn't think so.

I'm home. It is wretched. That is all.

I'll be home tomorrow. Also, I shaved my head. I forgot to mention that.

Uh. That's about it.

Peace, muthas.

You know, I really fuckin' hate how Hamlet's big speech is about death. It doesn't have to be about death people!

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them"

I woke up this morning and thought, "Fuck this shit, I'm takin' up arms." And I'm going to. I don't have to put up with chance and people and [God] and how all of that coalesces into some sort of conspiracy to mess up my life. Fuck it. Fuck it with a splintery wooden spoon.

But soft you now, the Fair Ophelia.

Now there's a woman I could go for. Dead, wet, and single.

I am alive. It's true, true, true for you and you. I'm sitting in the computer lab in the second basement of the BBC and no one else is here. I've got an entire room full of electronics, rolly chairs, and fake plants entirely to myself and I can't think of one damned thing to do. Shouldn't I be able to come up with something interesting in a room like that all by myself? Shouldn't I?!

And there's the problem. I've lost all creativity. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch. Ain't no shit pouring forth from my brain. No waves of excitement or sporadic thoughts strike me anymore. I am stagnant. And it's not upsetting and this isn't a whiny post. I feel like my posts seem whiny when really I'm just making statements. Stating something makes it concrete and somehow, when a problem or an upsetting event is just slapped down into stone by stating it, it's not so bad anymore. At least when we've got a hardened version of this problem we can examine it and take it in our hands and figure out what the fuck to do. I digress.

Today is the day after Senior Prank. It was fairly fun. Too bad everyone knew the day it was going to happen. Now, I like to know when prank is going to take place--it gives me a chance to prepare myself mentally and physically. Drink lots of water, eat something, prepare for a hangover, etc. etc. But I can see how everyone knowing would be truly upsetting to a certain sect of people who enjoy the suprise of it all. I don't know. The point is, the day after prank, normally accompanied with drunken kids on the quad all day is really very dissapointing this year. And this is probably why I'm typing away in this basement.

Susannah and Jen took off for a Great American Journey through the Appalachian Skyway or something like that. They invited me and tried to force me to go, but I declined. Hours and hours in a car just doesn't seem like my cup of tea at the moment. I'd rather be alone. I've been enjoying being alone lately. Which is funny, because for the majority of this school year, I've not been alone. This is bad. This is very bad. People need alone time. When I was in high school I was never with other people except on the weekends and during the summer. Maybe that's why I was so much better at school then. I wasn't so distracted. And I AM distracted. I can't even be interested in math anymore. And I LOVE math. It's all too, too tragic.

And I don't know what I was talking about anymore.

Let me give you a run down of the past two weeks:

Left Indiana in anger and hatred towards parents.
Got to Annapolis; had nervous breakdown.
After nervous Breakdown, saw Dan Broussard.
He was with me almost constantly for the next three days. Good company, that Danniel B.
Didn't work on my essay.
Took Dan to Baltimore only to have to come back for his Cell Phone.
The next day, took him to New Carollton Station.
Jen came home.
Party!
St. Patrick's Day Party!
Still no work done on Essay.
Susannah came back; picked her up at airport.
Our new kitten, Don Juan, passes away. She fell off the roof about twenty feet and died on the street in my arms.
I miss two days of work and Dolores threatens to fire me.
I don't go to Seminar.
Get SIX PAGES DONE ON ESSAY.
Finally go to work.
Here I am.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK March.

:: sings cheerfully drugged up on Tylenon with Codeine :: I get to have my wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisdom tooooooooooooooooooooooooooth taken out. Isn't this exciting? I get to be anesthatized! I get to have doctors perform various medical procedures upon me whilst I am unconscious. Is anyone else creeped out by this? Anyone? Anyone? Especially when I wrote one of my Erotika Club stories involving a rapist dentist who does his patients while they're unconscious. Oh my over-active imagination. Anyway, I'm in a lot of pain and never want to talk to anyone again.

I am depressed. Depressed is a weird word. Theink about the morphology. I have been pressed. Flattened, pancaked. Weighted down. Why? why why why why why. Who knows. It's not important. It's not sad either. I hate it when people assume that depressed means sad. It doesn't mean sad. It means stasis. Fucking stuck. Mired down in ritual and habit, seeing the same old faces get older in the same old places.

I need a vacation.

Yesterday was my twentieth birthday. I woke up and entirely forgot that it was my birthday until I made it to music. But before that, when I got up, I realized that my eye was dying. It was swollen and bloodshot and just streaming tears. It did this all through music. Not to mention my phone started ringing in class. The ringtone is Fergalicious. It was only mildly embarassing.

After that, I went home to see Kali and Mallory and get some lunch and then go to math. I didn't make it to math because my eye was so god damned fucked up. But I took out my contact and there seems to be some relief today.

Our Seminar on Dante's Inferno last night was fantastic, so that brought my spirits up. I'm probably going to write my Sophomore Essay on Dante. I don't know what exactly, but something related to the Divine Comedy.

Then, to my shock, my neighbors and roommates had bought two bottles of Vodka and we proceeded to have a most raucous party. It was hellacious. The neighbors downstairs even dropped in and so did James from Fe bringing a dead ferret that I was given to wear around my neck. His name is George Bernard Shawl. I love him. His mouth opens and clips to his tail to keep him on. he even has beady little eyes.

Susannah also brought back half packs of Lucky Strikes, Imparciales, and Yves Saint Laurent Cigarettes from Argentina. The total cost for all that was approximately 4.00. Amazing. God bless South America.

All in all, a pretty good fucking birthday, I'd say.

Happy New Year, Auld Lang Something or Other, Holiday wishes, etc.

Ah, the first day of 2007. I can remember 2000 like it was fucking yesterday. I'm getting old. So old. I'll be twenty in a week. Twenty years old. Two Decades.

I hate New Year's Resolutions. I really really hate them, but I can't help having a private one of my own. It's going to be something I can think about when I'm walking or looking out the window or cleaning the god damned kitchen floor. I'm going to carry it around in my mind, wrap it in thought, and maybe this resolution will come to pass. I don't know. It's good to have a goal, I suppose.