|
tinyrage
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Country: United States
State: Abject Confusion
Birthday: 4/8/1979
Gender: Female
Interests: Shakin' it like a Polaroid picture.
Expertise: Being punk like Avril Lavigne. Dripping sarcasm all over your best pants. Esperanto.
Occupation: Accounting/Finance
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
12/4/2001
|
|
| I've been here for five years. I think I'm about finished with Xanga, and with this username. I'm setting up shop elsewhere. If you want to keep tabs on me (and I hope that you do), I can be found here. Drop me a line. I'll still be checking in on you, you know.
| | |
| I need names for these pieces, and I'm
sort of at a loss here. I offer them up for your puny brains. This puny
brain's tapped out.
Name Me:
And Me:
Also Me:
And don't forget about Me:
Or Me:
And possibly Me as well:
And if you're not bored already, Me:
I'll stop killing your computers now, but know that there are more. See why I'm like this?
| | |
| 1. When you buy a house, be sure to ask the sellers about any little
quirks the house might have. You may find, for example, that since you
live in the Delta and have no basement, that your water heater is in
your attic, and if you have no attic fan, the heat can smother the
pilot light. And then if you can't get the damn thing lit, you can pay
someone $65 for the privilege of about 5 minutes of work. Or, maybe
your dryer stops heating, and you think it's broken, so you have a
repairman come out and charge you for parts and a site visit, only to
discover later that the breaker trips when the washer and dryer are
running at the same time and the washer changes cycles, resulting in a
dryer that still runs, but won't heat. That one will probably run you
close to $200.
2. My brain is shit, and I must write everything down or do things the
moment I think of them, because otherwise, they'll never get done.
3. I am, in fact, getting dumber as I age, which is further proven to
me every time I mistype a word as its homophone. I just typed "right"
instead of "write" on #2 and didn't catch it for a while.
4. "Number 2" is still as funny when you're 27 as it is when you're 12.
5. It does so matter what you get your degree in. Unless you can benefit from nepotism. Sadly, I cannot. Boo, hiss.
6. Starting anything from the ground up is really fucking hard and always comes with drama. See "derby".
7. I'm just a girl who cain't say no. To unnecessary responsibility, that is.
8. I'm not very good at maintaining things. Like plants, friendships,
exercise and healthy eating regimens. I suspect the cats are still
alive because a) I have a husband who picks up my slack in that arena,
and b) they can bitch at me when they need food or water.
9. I do not have to be good at everything. Also, not everything I do
needs to be perfect. (Chalk this one up as a lesson in progress.)
10. Wearing skates in the house is really fun, but maybe not such a
good idea. At least I didn't break anything. It was close, though.
11. This yellow background really is obnoxious.
12. The grey isn't pretty, but it's a hell of a lot easier on the eyes, eh?
| | |
| I swear, I'm about five minutes from scrapping everything in my life
and starting over. Sometimes, I wake up not only on the wrong side of
the bed, but the wrong side of my life and all I want to do is tell
whomever's in charge that I need a do-over, because I'm just fucking
this up quite possibly beyond repair.
I'm so angry this morning. All sorts of scenarios play through my
head--things I think I should do, things I'd love to do now but would
regret later, things I'd never in a million years go through with, but
are wickedly fun to plan for, etc.
I've thought more than once about shutting this site down. It's
pointless and disappointing and sometimes feels like public
masturbation. And then sometimes it feels like therapy. I'm too
attached to the feedback aspect of it. It feels good to get something
out, and then it feels like shit when it sits there and no one has
anything to say about it. That seems counterproductive. Maybe I'll just
go private. Maybe I'm thinking way too much about what to do with a
silly little weblog of no consequence. Maybe I just think too much
about the wrong things in general.
All right, that's enough of this shit.
| | |
| I'm just....not good right now. I'm floundering, and I don't know what
to do. I'm sick of myself, sick of my own head, sick of being me. I'm
losing the plot a bit, I think, and it's my own fault.
I don't mean to be dramatic, really. I'm genetically predisposed to it,
but it's not something I do intentionally. I don't post these things
for sympathy or commiseration, just for myself. And I don't believe in
making a bunch of private posts so that only I can see them. I guess I
like putting them out there because I have accountability that way. I
like to say what I mean in strong words, like Emerson said. Today's
feelings are different than tomorrow's, and may in fact contradict what
I feel on any other given day, but I like to know that I'm experiencing
them and expressing them. It makes me feel that I'm living stronger and
not pussyfooting around. I guess that's not really the case, though,
but half of existence is fooling ourselves into thinking we're doing
better than we are, right?
I wish that I were so many other things than what I am, and I'm not
sure why it is that what I am has become distasteful to me. Maybe
because I think I had potential once, but it never became kinetic.
Maybe that's what's wrong with me. I'm weighed down with potential, but
I have no kickstart. I can't do it myself, and I resent when anyone
else tries to do it for me.
I'm not a philosopher, and I'm not great with words. Occasionally, I
can turn a pretty phrase, but most often, I find myself sitting
openmouthed and forcing out words that don't fit. I can't express
myself. Other people's words do that much better for me. Maybe I don't
really have a self. Maybe all that I think of as me is a set of
disappointments. Maybe the reason I have so many problems with myself
is because what I think of as me isn't me at all, and the me I want to
be cannot exist.
Maybe I should have another drink and shut the fuck up. Yeah, that sounds like the wisest course.
| | |
|
