So I've neglected this place in my mind, in my mind for awhile.
But I guess I'm ready to come back since it's time for things to change again.
schedules break down organically and that's what I long for but damn, that's what I'll miss.
I've been thinking about becoming a night owl and they asked me to join.
But i think I might just decline.
Making rainbows will better anyway.
And then I'll fly away.

Not to long ago I visited 1917 and those boys were brave.
The air as still, my breath was cold and no bullets were fired cause, well I paused time. Just to see what it was like.

who reads this?

I am curling my hair just to see and thinking about becoming a talkshow host who broadcasts from mystery places from the arctic i think it would be a hit it would just be me raising such important issues as whos labia would be best to live on currently i could call elvis costello or maybe one of the people from that scottish group who did the terry fox song that was on benny and joon call them my brothers yeah i even have glasses i can blaance an curling iron on my head and type yet another thing to amuse my adoring fans with when i am an imfamous talk show host.

I gave away my journal. I kept it for three years. I would rip out pages, scratch out and paste over everything I wrote. So self critical. Then I finally gave it away as a gift. To a friend, to remember me by. Now, a year later, i wonder where it's been.Has it been abandoned along the way? I almost hope so. And I hope that someone else owns it now and reads all those thoughts and wonders. Do I ask or keep it a mystery?

A dilemma. I suppose I only care because I have nothing better to do right now.

I think I might write fake journals and leave them places. That will be my new hobby.

Guilty Pleasure = TEEN ANGSSSTT

I definitely scoff at it every second I get. I'm way to damn rational and mature, you know, to wallow in my self-pity. Thats what I'll have you believe. "Deal with it and move on," is what I preach. But some days all I want is to lay in bed and cry on the phone to some bussom buddy about how lonely I am and that nobody understands me, while full well knowing that I have plenty of friends and family who love me and at least try to understand. Or to sit in a starbucks and whine about how I just wish that boy would notice me, if only I were prettier... ohhhhh to be 15 and seeking attention by walking with my head to the ground and leaning against walls looking all brooding and moody. I had my short stint with teen angst. We had some laughs and soon parted ways. But sometimes I just get nostalgic and all I want to do is listen to some postal service and cry my itty bitty heart out. Sadly I have better things to do with my time.

I thought I was damn artsy.