Some people write their songs. Some people have their songs written for them. Or steal them. Me? I write my own blog. I try to write everyday; about how I am, how I feel, what I want, what I don't want, etc. I find that the best way to keep track of these ideas is to keep them in the order that they appear. Sometimes what I write may seem personal, political, unethical, plain jargon, and/or potentially slanderous.
But don't worry, at least it's not about you.
Everyday has a title. Not a brand. Not a thang. Just a name.
1:26 p.m. Teaching myself to stop crossing my legs. Dammit.
1:27 p.m. I’d like to see a chiropractor by the end of this week. I want to stand up straight. I want to do a push up. Need a lot more doing and a lot less wanting. We always want.
1:28 p.m. I should also turn that lady into HOA. I can’t stand being yelled at by gross older women holding Paris Hilton-style teacup dogs. Yes, I can drive. Do I want to squeeze past your poorly parked moving van and equally unimpressive Dodge Dart? No. You smell like Arbor Mist and White trash. I pay fees for this ish, you know?
4:00 a.m. I was told to start early. Let’s do this.
4:07 a.m. I was also told to have a starting off point. Not like the time that I was born, some big life event like graduation, etc., but just a day. Today even. Some moment in time where I really wanted to face the front and keep chugging. All this time I felt that my life was stationary. Sure, I’ve got accolades, skills, goals, but I just thought that everyone eventually gets what they want. They don’t. You have to work for it and my track record just happens to precede me. I really wanted to cry the other day thinking my prime happened back in college. I was driven, pretty, more opportunities were available… No, there’s just as many today if not more than where I stand now. I’m still driven - and being pretty… That’s something I have to feel not something I can see. The main thing that happened to me was that I stopped being appreciative. I got jealous, which made me stupid. Scratch all that now. The best part is I don’t need to start over. Starting over is for quitters and people who like revisiting the same mistakes twice. I’ve learned from mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t own up to them. Here’s to patience and the grass being greener on either side.
12:46 p.m. People don’t appreciate the idea of wasting time. Your employer doesn’t appreciate you wasting time. In all actuality, how come? How do you define it? How do you calibrate this decay? Writing this paragraph is me wasting my time and yours by having you read this. My apologies. But really, what else would you do? If you could get back these two minutes sifting, those five minutes perusing, this hour of fatiguing yourself through menial texts and pictures you’ll never experience. Why not live vicariously.
4:30 p.m. Wrapping up my visit with Papa this afternoon. Super good visit, I’m becoming more intrigued by family history and previous dramas/altercations, etc. Why it took this long to become so interested in my kin I wish I knew. The way I left was just really nice, Papa said something about the sun setting and looking around at the new neighborhood he moved into. It’s super ticky-tacky with it’s Leave it to Beaver vibes but it’s a nice paranormal reality away from the news reels featuring Chicago neighborhoods, Ferguson, and Detroit. He’s so white bread that it hurts. His biggest issue at the moment is his neighbor, one block away, having painted his door this hideous neon yellow-green color. Not HOA friendly at all and it’s true, it’s pretty butt-ugly. I hope he turns that guy in. Bitch.
11:01 p.m. Next big venture: Being debt free. I really want to tie up loose ends and think of the proper game plan to cover all my previous expenses (e.g. student loans) plus my current accounts (hello PayPal and NewEgg). It’s not much for both but I’d really like to be bank rolling right about meow. I might feel a lot better about myself if I didn’t have to taxi 25% of my earnings to extracurricular accounts. Being frugal also sparks my creativity. This could prompt a real win for me.
11:14 p.m. When I write in all caps people take me seriously. SEE.
11:15 p.m. That reminds me, I need to update my status on Facebook or Twitter about trucks with spoilers. Waste of alkdfkjalkfjladf money. WHY. Why? Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?
1:53 p.m. Just watched a girl walk down the sidewalk with one hand on her hip and the other carrying her petite bags printed with fixated Victoria’s Secret dogs and an eagle. For 100 feet. Are you on an invisible runway? It’s 98 degrees.
1:56 p.m. I’m a little bitter because my grandfather is in surgery or nearly done. With each operation (this makes #3) I feel like the surgeons and assistants, the uppers and the downers, all snip a little more away from him each time before they sow him back up. They might as well install zippers in his intestines and ditch the invested sutures.