One handed blogging due to delicious popsicle. This promises to be a delightful, if poorly spelled, post.

I am getting properly restless now that spring is coming. Days that smell like grass and rain. And then the fucking frost kills it. Longest winter EVER. Can I get an Amen?

I'm going to start doing yoga. I think it'd be good for me. I could use some zen.
And I fucking NEED to start getting shit done. ...maybe tomorrow...

I'm getting tired of people telling us we're fucked. That the world is just going to do what it will do and eventually we'll just kill ourselves off. I don't care if it's true. I believe in people and kindness and our will to live and fight and dream. So fuck that.

I can't stop stealing cookies from Linden's cupboard.








...sorry linden...

I burned myself at work on top of the cut I gave myself at work.
On the plus side, Juanito called me "mi amore".
Sigh, Juan Simon, your gold teeth turn me on.
Also, an new guy (nameless black dude with GREAT jeans) called me his shorty. Obviously as soon as I'm out of range of white guys, this new booty is in demand.
I had best be careful though, because with all this milk duds for breakfast shit, this new booty may soon turn into this new aircraft carrier.

I dropped speech comm. I just don't have time, but I feel like I'm letting "Mr. Can Quite Speak Well Enough To Teach Speech Comm But What The Hell, It's U of I" win. Really my pride is just wounded, and now I'll have time for things like Homework and Practicing and...sleep. Suck it up.

Off to homework and toast. And playing with kittens.

I was all about blogging, and then I lost my taste for it.
But nothing soothes the soul like talking about one's self, and these days my soul could use some soothing.

So we're back to square one: Sitting on my floor surrounded by dirty laundry and new music scores. The kittens are napping on my bed, the neighbors are chanting about vodka, and I still smell like work(tabasco sauce, limes, and degreaser). My happiness gets a B+, my productivity gets a C-(thank you hulu.com), and I'm fighting the urge to finish off the milk duds. I'm beginning to accept that this is a really good place to be, here on the floor, surrounded by information, smelling like expendable income and battling sugar addiction.

I've gotten disgustingly introspective since I realized that being an adult means that all your happy stuff is twice as wonderful as it was before, but the sad stuff is infinitely worse than when you were younger. That's not good. Give me back the days of meaningless conversations, free meals, no bills, easy sexuality and that endearing, infuriating sense of invincibility.

I need a plan.
Step one: get the hell out of here.

Any suggestion for step two?