ACTUALLY, im having a pretty good day.
maybe its this delicious coffee. maybe its the fact that i got to go out even though it was pouring rain and purchase some cute little things for my best friends new baby girl (she is due in two months and i cannot WAIT to meet her. delilah. what a beautiful name.) maybe i just got up on the correct side of the bed for a nice change.
i wouldnt say im feeling CHIPPER or anything, god forbid i go THAT far, but im pretty okay with things.
i still play pretend.
i still pretend i get invited to loads of parties and my schedule is always full and im The Princess whom all the girls want to be like and all the boys want to fuck. does that make me a bad person? or just immature? i dont think it necessarily counts as immature unless my odd behavior somehow manifested into my everyday life. and so far, this hasnt happened. i stay on the quiet side. its amazing how many people have stories to tell if you just listen. ive had friends and barely acquaintances alike share some pretty deep, dark, harrowing shit with me...
sometimes i wonder if i made a mistake in dropping out of college. i was going for a degree in psychology. i still read up on it when i get the chance, but then i find myself psychoanalyzing everyone i know, and i dont think thats fair, so i drop the subject for a while. until it captures my attention again.
ive tossed around the idea of writing a book for years. i would like to have the means to travel the country with a mini tape recorder and just sit down with people and ask them questions... i bet i would get some pretty captivating stuff. im sure someone has already beaten me to this idea, but i would still like to do it. first i would have to write my life story, though. my memoirs. memoirs of a fucked up girl with no self esteem. yeah. that would sell like hotcakes. right.
the fact is, im no good at writing fiction. and i wish i were. i wish i had that skill; because im positive that all the stories in the world are just waiting to be dug up and dusted off and brought to light. i am positive they are all buried somewhere. it just takes certain minds to know where to dig, i guess. and i dont possess the proper equipment. i can write all the nonfiction you could possibly want. i could choke you with it. maybe all these blogs and journals i keep (i have old, leatherbound notebooks dating back to '97; FULL of ramblings and meandering thoughts) really ARE my life story. and someday i will try to get around to editing them and splicing them together in the correct order and changing some names to protect the innocent.
no, fuck changing names to protect the innocent. there are no innocents. if i have to, i will change names to protect myself from any possible counterattacks or being sued. but not because any characters are innocent.
youre all fucking guilty.
maybe its this delicious coffee. maybe its the fact that i got to go out even though it was pouring rain and purchase some cute little things for my best friends new baby girl (she is due in two months and i cannot WAIT to meet her. delilah. what a beautiful name.) maybe i just got up on the correct side of the bed for a nice change.
i wouldnt say im feeling CHIPPER or anything, god forbid i go THAT far, but im pretty okay with things.
i still play pretend.
i still pretend i get invited to loads of parties and my schedule is always full and im The Princess whom all the girls want to be like and all the boys want to fuck. does that make me a bad person? or just immature? i dont think it necessarily counts as immature unless my odd behavior somehow manifested into my everyday life. and so far, this hasnt happened. i stay on the quiet side. its amazing how many people have stories to tell if you just listen. ive had friends and barely acquaintances alike share some pretty deep, dark, harrowing shit with me...
sometimes i wonder if i made a mistake in dropping out of college. i was going for a degree in psychology. i still read up on it when i get the chance, but then i find myself psychoanalyzing everyone i know, and i dont think thats fair, so i drop the subject for a while. until it captures my attention again.
ive tossed around the idea of writing a book for years. i would like to have the means to travel the country with a mini tape recorder and just sit down with people and ask them questions... i bet i would get some pretty captivating stuff. im sure someone has already beaten me to this idea, but i would still like to do it. first i would have to write my life story, though. my memoirs. memoirs of a fucked up girl with no self esteem. yeah. that would sell like hotcakes. right.
the fact is, im no good at writing fiction. and i wish i were. i wish i had that skill; because im positive that all the stories in the world are just waiting to be dug up and dusted off and brought to light. i am positive they are all buried somewhere. it just takes certain minds to know where to dig, i guess. and i dont possess the proper equipment. i can write all the nonfiction you could possibly want. i could choke you with it. maybe all these blogs and journals i keep (i have old, leatherbound notebooks dating back to '97; FULL of ramblings and meandering thoughts) really ARE my life story. and someday i will try to get around to editing them and splicing them together in the correct order and changing some names to protect the innocent.
no, fuck changing names to protect the innocent. there are no innocents. if i have to, i will change names to protect myself from any possible counterattacks or being sued. but not because any characters are innocent.
youre all fucking guilty.
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
karma:
i think your more of a saggitarius
elsie:
my goal since i was a youngin' is to write my memoir. i've tried doing it countless times, it's so hard though to get all of your thoughts organized...at least for me anyway. I CAN'T WAIT TO MEET YOU WHEN YOU COME TO COLUMBUS. It will be freakin awesome.