Somebody call me. Please.
From the time I woke up this morning (9:00a) up to 4:00pm this afternoon, I've done nothing but wonder what is lacking in my life. I've started searching for schools I can apply to in far off places - again. I've visited blogs and blog hopped over and over - again. I've whined about how I am stuck in this rut I don't even clearly recognize the nature of - again. All of that and some others along the lines of it only to realize that I am extremely bored. Yo.
I can't even write a freaking amusing narrative :( Oh my sad life.
Well anyway, went out to deposit some money in the bank only to arrive there a minute or so after closing time. And so I went to the mall to eat at McDs and read Story of Junk. I haven't even sipped a tenth of the soda and I knocked the plastic cup over while trying to open a packet of ketchup. A little less than half of it remained. Maybe that was God's way of telling me to cut back on the sugar. At least it didn't soak my burger or, worse, the fries.
It's so amusing how Yablonsky's Story of Junk seems to perfectly ride with my current lost, confused, I-need-to-meet-more-people and idle state. It's not just any kind of boredom because if it were, I would've popped in my favourite movie on vcd or dvd or continued with my little screenplay. But it's not. It's not. Bah, anyway... Some quotes from the book:
What do ordinary people do for fun? Do they come home from work, buss the spouse, plop themselves in front of the tube, and feel that their lives are complete? For me, it just goes on and on.
-
"I'm not sure what to do," she says. "I want to go home and be with you and the cats, but the doctor says if I leave now, I'll be dead within twenty-four hours."
"You're not sure what to do? You're not sure?" I feel wild. Then I laugh. I live in a comic world. It's tragic.
-
Kittens are crawling over every piece of furniture. One catches my eye and I pick it up, the sweetest little kitten I've ever seen: fluffy dark gray with deep jade eyes, a square head, and pointy ears. It purrs the moment I touch it.
"I have dibs on this guy," I say, pulling it to my chest. I need to put something there.
"I can't decide which is cutest," he says. "That one, or his sister." He cups her in his hand and we stand together there a minute with these babies in our arms, not sure whether to laugh or weep. At this point, it all feels the same.
---
Shite. I need to get out more, don't I?
I may just start wearing dark eye liner and head bands. I don't get the connection either. But, you know?
Okay, I'm off to google Steven Strait as Patag suggested.
I can't even write a freaking amusing narrative :( Oh my sad life.
Well anyway, went out to deposit some money in the bank only to arrive there a minute or so after closing time. And so I went to the mall to eat at McDs and read Story of Junk. I haven't even sipped a tenth of the soda and I knocked the plastic cup over while trying to open a packet of ketchup. A little less than half of it remained. Maybe that was God's way of telling me to cut back on the sugar. At least it didn't soak my burger or, worse, the fries.
It's so amusing how Yablonsky's Story of Junk seems to perfectly ride with my current lost, confused, I-need-to-meet-more-people and idle state. It's not just any kind of boredom because if it were, I would've popped in my favourite movie on vcd or dvd or continued with my little screenplay. But it's not. It's not. Bah, anyway... Some quotes from the book:
What do ordinary people do for fun? Do they come home from work, buss the spouse, plop themselves in front of the tube, and feel that their lives are complete? For me, it just goes on and on.
-
"I'm not sure what to do," she says. "I want to go home and be with you and the cats, but the doctor says if I leave now, I'll be dead within twenty-four hours."
"You're not sure what to do? You're not sure?" I feel wild. Then I laugh. I live in a comic world. It's tragic.
-
Kittens are crawling over every piece of furniture. One catches my eye and I pick it up, the sweetest little kitten I've ever seen: fluffy dark gray with deep jade eyes, a square head, and pointy ears. It purrs the moment I touch it.
"I have dibs on this guy," I say, pulling it to my chest. I need to put something there.
"I can't decide which is cutest," he says. "That one, or his sister." He cups her in his hand and we stand together there a minute with these babies in our arms, not sure whether to laugh or weep. At this point, it all feels the same.
---
Shite. I need to get out more, don't I?
I may just start wearing dark eye liner and head bands. I don't get the connection either. But, you know?
Okay, I'm off to google Steven Strait as Patag suggested.
posted by Byeong | 6:47:00 PM
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