What happens when MySpace becomes my space?
Trust me, I hate myself for loving it.But somehow, just like Joan Jett and her black, black heart(s)--
I can't break free from the things that it does...er...is?
Whatever, you get the idea.
How much do I love Joan Jett, by the way?
(no, she's no relation to John Bytheway, a hilarious mormon youth speaker)
I love her a LOT.
And I blame Becky (the former blogger) for my fucked up and strange-but-almost-pleasant dreams last night.
I can't even get into the details, because, well.
It would be highly self-incriminatory.
Or just plain inflammatory, and who needs that kind of trouble with the free clinic not opening 'til 10?
(just a guess people, just a guess)
Ok, so the whole point of this is to say that I don't have time to blog today,
but that I did find some time *cough* procrastination *cough* last night to write something on STUPID MOTHERFUCKING MySpace.
It felt like blogging used to feel...
I should probably blog here more often
...because I'm not scattered enough as it is??
I have this amazing project I'm supposed to be working on right now, and I keep having too many other (far less amazing) things come up.
Bah.
I need some major stress relief.
I need to reduce, reuse and recycle.
I need to spew my stress out, in a stream of gutteral curses, wailed into a northern wind.
I should...
go to the top of a mountain.
And make a wish.
I should stop falling so much.
Clumsy girl.
I should...
reduce
reuse
re
cycle.
I should stop searching and maybe I would find...
I should stop.
And then start again.
I should focus on the important things...
wait, I already do.
Usually.
I had the Beastie Boys slamming around in my head this morning,
when I took my Astronomy test.
They make quite a racket, if you didn't know.
They left a mess in there, incidentally.
But the test went well.
I love the crisp morning air as I walk to class from the stadium where I park my
beautiful
beloved
car.
I love the quiet of campus at the time of day,
and the man with his giant-foot puppy--
a hound, perhaps.
Giant feet, spindly legs and flop-o-potamus ears.
Ok, it's not the man I love--
hell, I don't even know what he looks like.
It's the pupppppy.
I want to snatch it up and nuzzle it and wrestle with it and throw a rawhide bone for it.
Over
and
Over.
I want a life that includes a fucking goddamned puppy, for christ's sake.
I want a life that excludes doing things I hate.
Anyway...
campus in the morning=yum.
And then, I get to sit and listen to a wearing-away southern drawl explain where we came from
(star dust, just so ya know)
and how likely it is that there are other planets with intelligent life
(quite likely, it seems)
and how unlikely it is that we'll ever actually cross paths with them.
Fucking Astronomy 1080 kicks ass.
And it's easy enough that I'm not studying enough to ace it...
oops.
And then, a brisk walk to the other side of our enormous campus for
the most
boring
English class ever.
Dude LECTURES.
I like him, I do.
He's cute in a "loves what he does and is knowledgeable" sort of way.
But he doesn't invite discussion.
Blurgh.
Boring, shmoring.
(super-deluxe incriminating section removed)
So.
That's what my days are like.
It's a good life.
I say that a lot...
pretty soon I may just believe it.
I remember when I blogged on blogger and I felt anonymous--no, more like unknown.
Like I could explain things about "me" and people didn't already know!
I guess maybe that's why it's losing its flavor...
I feel like all my mysteries and histories and herstories...are laid out already.
It's like we're all old friends there, and it's lovely--
gorgeous, really, amazing, incredible, satisfying.
But.
I have this need to be new and fresh.
And so!!!!!!
Maybe I really should start over!
Maybe I really should start a new totally anonymous blog somewhere....
hmmmm.....
Yeah, I'm too fucking lazy, I know.
But we can pretend.
Blog me your heart and I'll tell you a tale....
(p.s. I think it's important that I shared that last little part with you all. It's like a break-through in therapy or something!)
So Im having a bad day. Sue me.
|posted by Bored Housewife at
8:08 AM
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