*grumble grumble*
as a preface i'd like to say that this is jumbled and nonsensical and isnt meant for any purpose besides to vent and perhaps make myself feel better. "but this forum isnt your journal," you say. well fuck that. i never post in words and i should start, eh. so here is a valient if not so reader-considerate effort.
there's a raincloud over my head that keeps raining shit. and after the shit stops i go away to amsterdam for a while where the sky rains beautiful rain all week and i frolic on the brick streets beneath the tilted buildings. i eat pastries every night when i'm stoned and i trip in the park that smells so clean and springy. i bond with some very cool people and eat some more pastries and some fresh squeezed juice to soothe my soul. the stress of the city that i know is an ocean away. they can have their tall buildings and their sewers and their homework and their mean nasty attitudes. fuck them. i want to live in the supermarket here and buy some wooden clogs and work in a flower shop as a tulip arranger. i want to buy euro style club clothes that cost way too much money and share the wealth of drugs with my friends at home. oh yes. friends. home. oh yeah, forgot about that. friends. who are my friends? are they chemically induced friends? with no backbones and no opinions? who are friends? and acquaintences? i have lots of "friends" i know lots of people. but which ones count? which ones will stay for the long haul? do we need people to stay for the long haul? because it seems like no one does. just a handful. a pocketful. not even that. i can't tell, i can never tell. i need a litmus test that will turn purple if the friend is worth my time. i need a telephone that doesn't come unplugged at inopportune times. i need to see my boyfriend. i need to smoke some pot. i need to stop this endless cycle where i pretend i'm happy and then reality hits, i pretend to do work and then the fact that i don't give a shit about what i'm doing hits. i need to do what i want to do. and i can't. i'm stuck in this microcosm called college and it's eating me alive. only one more year, we say, that's all. one more year. then off to the "real world" of working and actually making money. hopefully enough to pay bills and enough to eat and enough to play with. money. what happened to bartering? wasn't that a good system? maybe i'll move to the amazon and eat spiders and snakes and live in a tent and be all primal and shit. old school. everything's old school, it's cool to be "old school." whatever that is... back in the day when everything was perfect. but the survey says that everything was never perfect, it was always bad. the badness/avoiding badness cycle continues. the pretending. "everyone's an actor or an actor's best friend, i wonder what happened to make them all have to pretend." go ani. i'm an actor and i don't have a best friend, so maybe i'm the only one who has to pretend. the line between characters and people, acting and life, is very very blurry. i would rather not act or do anything, i'd rather observe the absurdities of human beings and criticize their stupid ways. i'd rather do that than be one. maybe i'd like to be a cat. cats are cool. they're not critical like me. i'm most critical of myself. my luck gets bad and i take it as a personal flaw. it's hard not to. it's hard not to be serious and cynical and stressed all the time. and trying not to be takes even more effort, and i'm running out of steam. i've forgotten what it's like to have no worries. is that even a reasonable goal? i suppose i'll go sing now. sing to cleanse my lungs of whatever nasty residue is left from my vacation. god forbid i should keep any of that carefree air i possessed only 2 days ago. perhaps some of it will arrive with the package i'm expecting in a week. or maybe it will just be the pollutants i so enjoy ingesting. triple bagged and in a tin. or perhaps my ill luck shall continue and i'll get to meet the superstars of the DEA. knock on wood. porque no estoy bien? no me gusta emociones negativos pero no puedo escapar. sabes donde puedo obtener motivacion? yo no lo tengo.
*sigh*
------------------
"i'm no angel, but please don't think that i won't try and try" -dido
as a preface i'd like to say that this is jumbled and nonsensical and isnt meant for any purpose besides to vent and perhaps make myself feel better. "but this forum isnt your journal," you say. well fuck that. i never post in words and i should start, eh. so here is a valient if not so reader-considerate effort.
there's a raincloud over my head that keeps raining shit. and after the shit stops i go away to amsterdam for a while where the sky rains beautiful rain all week and i frolic on the brick streets beneath the tilted buildings. i eat pastries every night when i'm stoned and i trip in the park that smells so clean and springy. i bond with some very cool people and eat some more pastries and some fresh squeezed juice to soothe my soul. the stress of the city that i know is an ocean away. they can have their tall buildings and their sewers and their homework and their mean nasty attitudes. fuck them. i want to live in the supermarket here and buy some wooden clogs and work in a flower shop as a tulip arranger. i want to buy euro style club clothes that cost way too much money and share the wealth of drugs with my friends at home. oh yes. friends. home. oh yeah, forgot about that. friends. who are my friends? are they chemically induced friends? with no backbones and no opinions? who are friends? and acquaintences? i have lots of "friends" i know lots of people. but which ones count? which ones will stay for the long haul? do we need people to stay for the long haul? because it seems like no one does. just a handful. a pocketful. not even that. i can't tell, i can never tell. i need a litmus test that will turn purple if the friend is worth my time. i need a telephone that doesn't come unplugged at inopportune times. i need to see my boyfriend. i need to smoke some pot. i need to stop this endless cycle where i pretend i'm happy and then reality hits, i pretend to do work and then the fact that i don't give a shit about what i'm doing hits. i need to do what i want to do. and i can't. i'm stuck in this microcosm called college and it's eating me alive. only one more year, we say, that's all. one more year. then off to the "real world" of working and actually making money. hopefully enough to pay bills and enough to eat and enough to play with. money. what happened to bartering? wasn't that a good system? maybe i'll move to the amazon and eat spiders and snakes and live in a tent and be all primal and shit. old school. everything's old school, it's cool to be "old school." whatever that is... back in the day when everything was perfect. but the survey says that everything was never perfect, it was always bad. the badness/avoiding badness cycle continues. the pretending. "everyone's an actor or an actor's best friend, i wonder what happened to make them all have to pretend." go ani. i'm an actor and i don't have a best friend, so maybe i'm the only one who has to pretend. the line between characters and people, acting and life, is very very blurry. i would rather not act or do anything, i'd rather observe the absurdities of human beings and criticize their stupid ways. i'd rather do that than be one. maybe i'd like to be a cat. cats are cool. they're not critical like me. i'm most critical of myself. my luck gets bad and i take it as a personal flaw. it's hard not to. it's hard not to be serious and cynical and stressed all the time. and trying not to be takes even more effort, and i'm running out of steam. i've forgotten what it's like to have no worries. is that even a reasonable goal? i suppose i'll go sing now. sing to cleanse my lungs of whatever nasty residue is left from my vacation. god forbid i should keep any of that carefree air i possessed only 2 days ago. perhaps some of it will arrive with the package i'm expecting in a week. or maybe it will just be the pollutants i so enjoy ingesting. triple bagged and in a tin. or perhaps my ill luck shall continue and i'll get to meet the superstars of the DEA. knock on wood. porque no estoy bien? no me gusta emociones negativos pero no puedo escapar. sabes donde puedo obtener motivacion? yo no lo tengo.
*sigh*
------------------
"i'm no angel, but please don't think that i won't try and try" -dido
