Whoa Junior, what
28 February 2004 at 10:03 pm
Tomorrow marks the last day off Iíll have for the next twenty days. How do I feel about this? Iím so dead tired already, thereís not much room left for feeling.
I took my first exam in two years on Thursday. Iím eighty percent sure that I passed. The twenty percent of me thatís unsure Ė I think itís my left foot Ė only feels that way because it was a scantron true/false test, something I am prone to fuck up.
I gave someone this address in a drunken ďWhy not?Ē moment and am wondering if heís reading this. Hello? Is anybody there? Iím sorry I was such a little shit. It was the first time I drank in something like a month, and I was feeling a little too feisty to be good company.
Iím going out tonight with the girl I went out with the last time, and she is quickly becoming my partner in crime. I accidentally wrote time, because as of now, I have none. Thatís kind of a strange phrase, because the time is there, itís just a matter of what you do with it. And I choose to make money.
Iím reading a book right now entitled ďThe Nine Parts of DesireĒ by Geraldine Brooks. Itís about her observations as a journalist in Islamic countries, particularly, the lifestyle of women. She wrote about an American who left Iraq, I think, to come back to America but got sick of the career-centered lifestyle and moved back to a country that was more family oriented. I canít imagine living a life that wasnít about making money. I canít imagine not worrying about when my credit cards are going to be paid off, finding pleasure in balancing my checkbook, weighing the pros and cons of every purchase, offering my presence to anyone who will give me money. I simply canít fathom it.
I spent another hour cleaning the kitchen today. I donít know how it gets so fucking dirty. Wait, yes I do; I have a chef for a boyfriend, and at his job, people clean up after him, so heís used to splattering food everywhere. By everywhere, I mean bits and pieces of alfredo and lomo saltado makes itís way five feet away to the refrigerator, the microwave, every single square inch of the floor. I love my Swiffer.
one year ago today: "íthere was no need to make me feel bad.í Ďthere was no need to fuck my boyfriend, claire.í" and "to be perfectly honest, all i've been doing is watching tv, smoking pot with michelle, and sleeping. ah yes: the recipe for success."
two years ago today: nothing.
three years ago today: nothing.
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