( Friday, Dec. 02, 2005 1:27 pm )
>You're pretty, you're pretty, you're pretty naive
Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing wrong with starting your day with suicidal ideation, breaking briefly to play the Sims and eat health cereal, and then moving on to homicidal thoughts. Oh, and on Sunday I start up again at Big Chain Books.
My mom's berating me for not doing enough to get a job and living off of their charity. But the whole monthly stipend trip was their idea anyway, in order to spare me the horrors of eating ramen daily. In truth, I wish they had just mailed me a bottle of multi-vitamins every few months, cause the guilt is more than I can take. Man I hate my mom. I hate to get back into these teenager ways of thinking, but I guess as long as I take her money, I'll be stuck shouting "YOU CAN'T CONTROL ME!!!! YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!" But she doesn't understand, I swear. I tend to resent that she just wants me to settle down, earn some money, and get married, because I think it's mainly to make her feel good about herself and give her things to brag about at crappy-Oprah-type-women's-gym-owned-by-crazy-Christian-conservative.
Hoo boy. It's tiring, the self-loathing. I was miserable yesterday, I couldn't sleep this morning, but I am starting to believe the only thing Davy can say: it's gonna be all right. Possibly.
Last night I rallied to go to Quizo, even though I was feeling that I couldn't afford it, especially since we keep losing, and also because I have fully zero dollars and was contemplating selling everything in my apartment on craigslist. But, in any case, we came in second, my darling paid for my beer, and since I hadn't eaten much all day in a fit of depression, I got extremely drunk. And also I knew "John Knowles" wrote A Separate Peace, a book I described in high school as "like Catcher in the Rye, only not good."
The boys ate fake meat tacos for dinner and as such blew the roof off the apartment this morning with their trumpeting windiness.
I guess I can't really get any sympathy for being broke, since I definitely spent all those dear little dollars my own self, scattering them willy-nilly all over Eastern Europe.
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