Have you ever gotten bored and decided to play with Mapquest to see how far exactly you are from the people on your friends' list? It's kind of fun, I guess, since a lot of the time I feel like I'm a million miles away from anyone sane, but to have the distances broken down to hours and miles is somewhat cheering.
The closest are three people who are only 4 hours out; after that the distance jumps to 5-7 hours. The majority of you are a plane trip or several days journey by car. It's strange to live in the one place on the eastern seaboard that represents this great wide expanse of nothingness in terms of people.
I've also noticed there's only one guy on my friend's list: ArcherNU. I'm not sure how this happened, since I used to have a pretty even gender balance going on up there. Then again, I"ve always been better at communicating with the opposite sex than with my own, so it might just be my personality dictating the list. Still, my list is making me look like a collector, so I should probably get back to some old fashioned male bonding in the near future.
I want to hit the road with a vengeance. It's not just the desire to escape now, but the need for the journey itself. Too many road songs on the radio for me to fight it much longer, and Spring Break and the open road I cannot deny much longer, even though I have no idea where or when I'm going.
I've been irritable lately. No real sleep, it seems, as all the sudden I've found my bed too uncomfortable to even pass out upon. The nightmares are gone, but lack of sleep and a general sense of restlessness have made me a real joy for those who have to put up with me. Fuck 'em all though...I put up with enough shit, so now they can taste mine!
My daughter drew me a score of cards and pictures for me today. I really need to find a shoebox or folder to start storing them, as they stop telling you they love you after a certain age. I'll need something to weather through the "fuck you's" and "stay out of my life's."
I had to take a break from exercising for a couple days; I tore the living shit out of just about everything below my neck. I'll start back tomorrow though, as the pain and sweat is about the only fun I can find around here.
Update: The true definition of boredom is turning to NyQuil as a source of recreation.
The closest are three people who are only 4 hours out; after that the distance jumps to 5-7 hours. The majority of you are a plane trip or several days journey by car. It's strange to live in the one place on the eastern seaboard that represents this great wide expanse of nothingness in terms of people.
I've also noticed there's only one guy on my friend's list: ArcherNU. I'm not sure how this happened, since I used to have a pretty even gender balance going on up there. Then again, I"ve always been better at communicating with the opposite sex than with my own, so it might just be my personality dictating the list. Still, my list is making me look like a collector, so I should probably get back to some old fashioned male bonding in the near future.
I want to hit the road with a vengeance. It's not just the desire to escape now, but the need for the journey itself. Too many road songs on the radio for me to fight it much longer, and Spring Break and the open road I cannot deny much longer, even though I have no idea where or when I'm going.
I've been irritable lately. No real sleep, it seems, as all the sudden I've found my bed too uncomfortable to even pass out upon. The nightmares are gone, but lack of sleep and a general sense of restlessness have made me a real joy for those who have to put up with me. Fuck 'em all though...I put up with enough shit, so now they can taste mine!
My daughter drew me a score of cards and pictures for me today. I really need to find a shoebox or folder to start storing them, as they stop telling you they love you after a certain age. I'll need something to weather through the "fuck you's" and "stay out of my life's."
I had to take a break from exercising for a couple days; I tore the living shit out of just about everything below my neck. I'll start back tomorrow though, as the pain and sweat is about the only fun I can find around here.
Update: The true definition of boredom is turning to NyQuil as a source of recreation.
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That's my favorite phrase lately. I think because it pushes a bit of life and death into the need to leave town.
You've got a couch to crash on if you should happen to wander into Boston one day. Until May, that is: I'm moving to a closet in May. You could share the closet if- Wait a second... In the context of my first comment, that last sentence is rather ambiguous. So: Damn you! You can't share my closet -- I mean, my closet-sized apartment. Or something....
Pardon me. I'm jet-lagged from my trip to the midwest. I also just watched an hour and a half of Gir, and that tends to warp my already-strange sense of humor.
Oh, and before I forget:
Chemical assistance is sometimes required to propel oneself through one's banal days. NyQuil, however, is a poor choice, I think. (Then again, I'm a career talker with an unnecessary caffeine addiction. Maybe you shouldn't take my word for it.)