I am being overdramatic. but seriously. I'm dead.
I passed out at four in the morning. woke up to boots crying to get out of my room at 6:30 cause he heard my dad in the kitchen. kicked him out, fell asleep. dad puts boots back in my room at seven, he cries some more. fall asleep. wake up to my annoying ass alarm clock at 8:30. start studying chapter one for my computer information system class. pass out for another hour. wake up at 9:30, study some more. get ready for class, leave at 10:27. search aimlessly for parking for twenty minutes. start walking to class and get stopped by some southern fat chick who wants me to give my card information for cheap hair shit. yeah no thanks. ten minutes later I squeeze out real fast and rush to class. sit in my assigned seat, which is number 69. not kidding. review chapter one real fast, then head to the computer lab to take the quiz. scored a 48 out of 60. still can't remember how to figure out what letter grade that would be, and too lazy to google it. left and got in my car, drove to the theatre and picked up my check from last friday. $235...yes please. drive to the atm, realize I don't have my card. drive home, run in and grab it, drive back to the atm. deposit it into my account. withdrawal $20. head over to quizno's to celebrate, buy two large sandwiches for me and my sis. head home, smoke, eat, watch the soap. did a load of laundry myself, which was actually hard. I don't like it. I wanted to nap but I had homework still for my class at 6. read the assigned twenty pages of my art history book, wrote the response to the study question. re-curled my hair. drove back over to school, got another shitty parking spot, but not as bad this time. waited around for fifteen minutes outside the classroom door. teacher came, sat down. learned a shitload of information again, this teacher rules. fell asleep for a little though, then had a spasm attack and woke myself up and embarrassed myself, I'm sure. got assigned to repaint the ghent altarpiece but with tiger woods. stoked. rush out of class, head over to pick up some weed. smoke, head home. rush in the door, tell my mom I'm leaving again, because I had a date with josh. she yells, "No, you're staying home! that goddamn cat has been bothering us all night and ariel's spraying now. you have to stay home and watch him or take him with you, but don't leave him with me." I'm super bummed, have to tell josh. boots is running around and going apeshit, bothering the other cats and my parents. lock him in my room with me where he immediately passes out. video chat with ashley, lurk on facebook for a bit. clean my room a little, but I got too lazy. then my mom came in my room and sat on my bed and we talked about art, how much I'm really interested in it and how my great uncle is a totally famous painter. an hour goes by and we're still talking about really cool shit. it was a really sweet talk. I smoked outside, then she joined me. we started watching big brother, so I wanted to eat something. made an easymac, shit was delicious. decided I was still hungry and searched for dessert. I spotted these oatmeal cookies in an unopened package. I've been fighting myself not to eat them for the past month because they've been sitting there, and I thought they were my dad's, because he's the only person who really eats cookies in this house. so I tell my mom and she says, "Oh, they're not his cookies, I bought those and no one's even touched them, I was gonna throw them out." the angels sing and I do a happy dance. pour a glass of milk, grab the whole package of cookies, sit on the couch and nomnomnom 'til I can't nom anymore. boots sits next to me and starts making the weirdest face, where his eyes were like squinted and droopy. I realize he's taking a piss right there on the leather couch. I kick him off and my mom gets pissed and I can't help but laugh. then I think about it and realize we need new kitty litter, so I need to go to the store tomorrow, definitely. boots is still going crazy at this point, running around, jumping off walls and being a ninja. my mom and I are watching big brother and all of a sudden the tv turns off. boots is playing behind it with all the cords and he unplugged something. I have to squeeze behind the tv and sit there and fuck with all these goddamn cords and kick him away at the same time cause he keeps trying to play and grab them and I'm looking and looking, and finally see where the cord goes. fix the issue, squeeze back out of there. finish watching the episode. grab boots and head to my room, close the door. get in bed. facebook lurk, blog. you are here.
discussing art with my mom really pushed me into considering pursuing something in that realm. I wish I was talented with my hands, I have so much I'd like to just...let go. it's what I've always wanted, but it was always so hard for me to say. speaking verbally, I choke up and become reserved, which is unfortunate because all I have are thoughts and ideas. I know how intelligent I am and it bothers me that it can't expand past my tongue. I can't express my thoughts verbally like I wish I could. it's easy for me to sit here at my computer and open up completely and let my fingers run wild, because there are no barriers here. the idea of a backspace button really pleases me.
I do talk a lot but my sentences are coated with occasional sarcasm or I'm spewing satirical comments directed at you or someone close by. or, I am comfortable with you, which means I'm having a good time. and that's with my friends. I love my friends. I really do. I've realized that lately. I used to not have any friends, and now, I've come to realize all the ones I care about, are here. they're close enough. and we get high. and we eat. and we drive around. and we go bowling. and we go to shows. and we play beer pong. and we get drunk. and we have funny conversations online. and we listen to good tunes, and have good times. I'm just having good times lately. I've moved on to individualism. I'm feeling good.
I'm scheduled at 10 tonight for the midnight showings of going the distance, machete, and the american. bleh. then on friday I'm picking josh up from work, smoking, and eating pizza. fuck yeah. saturday, I'm calling in to work and going to fuck yeah fest with ryan and kevin, I believe. work sunday 1-6. no school on monday, ashley's coming down. getting high, going to panera bread. yada yada yada. life continues on, etc.
true blood isn't on this sunday. they're skipping a week for the last episode. the last one. I can't handle that. it can't be over. a whole year...without true blood? I don't think I can make it. I'm just going to watch the first three seasons over and over 'til it's on again. /wrists all day.
I know people say smoking weed makes you lazy...and they're right. it totally does. I can be very fucking lazy. but it's not like I wasn't already. and it's not like I don't enjoy it. I'd be a homebody all day every day, if I didn't feel so pressured by society to be so...productive. I love laying around all day. I love sleeping. I love doing nothing. the thing is - when I get that gust of energy that tells me, "Hey, you should get your ass up and be productive today. clean your room, take a shower, hang out with your friends. go do shit." - I really do go do shit. I get up, and I go out. and I come home late, and I pass out late. and it starts all over again.
it's fucking 3:30 in the morning. why do I always do this to myself? I don't know.
my eyeballs are on fire. they really are. I think I'll pass out now.
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