Friday, July 08, 2005

I could blow through the ceiling if I just turn and run

there are two colours in my head

Guess what this picture is all about, and you may discover something absurd about me. It's from Peru, and that's all I will say about it. If you are the first to guess correctly, you'll win something (it might be a thumbs up from me, but I promise it will be something). I've helped immensely by taking a thoroughly craptastic photograph.

This has really turned into one of those weeks that I would gladly flush down the toilet and never recollect again. It feels as though everything has went wrong. It makes me feel like I just want to cry oh, hang it all and just walk away. I used to dream about that all the time as an adolescent incidentally. Day dreams about just walking away. Like, one day, you're walking to school and you just keep walking, past the bus stop, past your road, out of town. And you never look back. I had a good excuse back then. Living in the middle of nowhere can have that effect. But now, have I become such a nomad that restlessness tempts me for no good reason at all?

Perhaps it is just a bad week, and this feeling that there is nothing holding me here, keeping me grounded here. San Francisco's one downfall is exactly that- it's a place filled with transients. Dependability is a prize of which we dare not dream here. Even if you meet someone dependable, they still might be leaving town the next month. And I have not much right to whine about this, because I might turn out to be as guilty as the next San Franciscan. With this unbearable lightness of being, I could very well float away at any time.

Two random notes that have backstory that I am too cranky to explain at the moment:

  • I have nothing against movies, or movies on a Saturday night. But going to a movie is one of the least interactive things one can do. And if your idea of an active social outing is going to a movie, I think I would rather curl up with a book and a vodka tonic at home.
  • XY's, if I am offering my friendship to you, you are getting the best part of me. Take me up on it, jacka**! Trust me, as a girlfriend/potential interest, I'm just your average, run-of-the-mill neurotic psychopath. I have references who can attest to the value of making the right choice, seriously. You will never hear me say the phrase, "Let's just be friends," because that would imply there is something small about friendship.
Okay... I think I better go find some Grey Goose before I alienate the three remaining readers of this drivel.

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