Some people tend to think I am ridiculously obsessed with pizza. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't talk about pizza, think about pizza, or eat some kind of pizza product. Sometimes when someone is talking to me, I will just randomly shout, "PIZZA!" for no apparent reason whatsoever. Then I will regain my composure and continue listening to the person. But here's the weird part: Pizza is not my favorite food. Fettuccine Alfredo is.
Yesterday I went thrift shopping. Thrift stores always inspire me. I am amused by the types of people who shop there.
The mom and dad whose children beg for that shitty VHS copy of The Mighty Ducks and walk around with select articles of clothing -- such as old baseball caps and winter gloves -- until someone tells them to "put that back where you found it!" The single-parent mothers desperately seeking new work clothes to suite their suffering salary. The skinny college boy who strolls in wearing all black minus his gray scarf and no coat. The raspy-voiced, artificial-nailed, peroxide-highlighted, middle-aged homemaker discussing fabric patterns with her girlfriend. And then there's me. The teenaged girl who's swallowing a large dose of identity crisis carrying around a bag adorned in maybe 30 buttons and pins. She talks to herself as she shops and says things like, "Holy mother of shit, that's fucking awesome." Then the people stare.. and move on.
I also went to the mall yesterday and bought some little gifts for my friends... most of which will end up becoming Christmas presents. I bought one friend his birthday present and felt rather accomplished since I had no idea what to get him. Shopping for males is harder. Maybe because I'm not a male myself. Well, not 100% anyway.
Going back to the pizza thing, I am eating cold pizza rolls right now. I enjoy them.
After I came home from shopping with my sister, I felt rather tired and a bit sad. Maybe it was from listening to all that Elliott Smith on the way to and from Marion.
So I got on the computer for awhile but found that it wasn't really cheering me up. So I went upstairs and took a nap and woke up around 9:30. Then I talked to Shannon about what was bothering me, and I went downstairs to watch The Stepford Wives with my parents. To my utter surprise, it was pretty funny. Then I went back to bed. I think I slept too much because now I feel bleh. 
If you ever feel guilty, it's probably because you are.
Friday night I went on this student council outing. We broke up into groups and went on an hour-long scavenger hunt around downtown. It was a lot of fun but I ran so much that my muscles are incredibly sore now. Also, because I chose to be retarded and wear my Chucks with somewhat thin socks, I have a huge blister on the back of my left ankle and a hole in my favorite pair of green socks.
The following was inspired by crushjunkie and "Lullaby" by James.
Every view they hold on you... is a piano out of tune. You're an angel, you're a demon, you're just human. Now your world has turned to trash. Broken windows on the past. Take that child and teach him senseless. Damage the dream, damage the dream... I feel nothing, I feel nothing at all. In this gloomy, haunted place all the feelings are of shame. All the windows have been broken by the children. So the wind screams up the stairs, slams doors and rattles chairs. I wish we weren't conceived in violence. Damage the dream, damage the dream... The magic is broken. The house is in ruins. Your memory's one-sided. The side that you're choosing feels nothing, feels nothing at all.
We feel nothing at all.
Yesterday I went thrift shopping. Thrift stores always inspire me. I am amused by the types of people who shop there.
The mom and dad whose children beg for that shitty VHS copy of The Mighty Ducks and walk around with select articles of clothing -- such as old baseball caps and winter gloves -- until someone tells them to "put that back where you found it!" The single-parent mothers desperately seeking new work clothes to suite their suffering salary. The skinny college boy who strolls in wearing all black minus his gray scarf and no coat. The raspy-voiced, artificial-nailed, peroxide-highlighted, middle-aged homemaker discussing fabric patterns with her girlfriend. And then there's me. The teenaged girl who's swallowing a large dose of identity crisis carrying around a bag adorned in maybe 30 buttons and pins. She talks to herself as she shops and says things like, "Holy mother of shit, that's fucking awesome." Then the people stare.. and move on.
I also went to the mall yesterday and bought some little gifts for my friends... most of which will end up becoming Christmas presents. I bought one friend his birthday present and felt rather accomplished since I had no idea what to get him. Shopping for males is harder. Maybe because I'm not a male myself. Well, not 100% anyway.
Going back to the pizza thing, I am eating cold pizza rolls right now. I enjoy them.
After I came home from shopping with my sister, I felt rather tired and a bit sad. Maybe it was from listening to all that Elliott Smith on the way to and from Marion.
So I got on the computer for awhile but found that it wasn't really cheering me up. So I went upstairs and took a nap and woke up around 9:30. Then I talked to Shannon about what was bothering me, and I went downstairs to watch The Stepford Wives with my parents. To my utter surprise, it was pretty funny. Then I went back to bed. I think I slept too much because now I feel bleh. If you ever feel guilty, it's probably because you are.
Friday night I went on this student council outing. We broke up into groups and went on an hour-long scavenger hunt around downtown. It was a lot of fun but I ran so much that my muscles are incredibly sore now. Also, because I chose to be retarded and wear my Chucks with somewhat thin socks, I have a huge blister on the back of my left ankle and a hole in my favorite pair of green socks.
The following was inspired by crushjunkie and "Lullaby" by James.
Every view they hold on you... is a piano out of tune. You're an angel, you're a demon, you're just human. Now your world has turned to trash. Broken windows on the past. Take that child and teach him senseless. Damage the dream, damage the dream... I feel nothing, I feel nothing at all. In this gloomy, haunted place all the feelings are of shame. All the windows have been broken by the children. So the wind screams up the stairs, slams doors and rattles chairs. I wish we weren't conceived in violence. Damage the dream, damage the dream... The magic is broken. The house is in ruins. Your memory's one-sided. The side that you're choosing feels nothing, feels nothing at all.
We feel nothing at all.
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-xip