Bread Rising
Things in life are so inconsistent.
For example, my dress size. That seems to have fluctuated all the way to china as of late, and I can't find anything that i want to wear, at all. Maybe i'm just retaining a lot of water lately. Or maybe, it's the curse of being in a relationship and having the luxury of making your significant other do everything for you, while you lay in bed eating cheetos.
This should finally help us to understand Britney Spears, kapish?
Henceforth, I have gone into extreme work-out, eat very little mode - which never seems to help. Plus i don't have the will-power of a man. What a cruel joke god played on us women when he created willpower. Maybe I should finally break down and try speed.
My job searching is also scattered. One week, I want my schedule like this. The next, I shoot down the other end of the carreer ladder. I go back and forth from dying to go back to school to doing something really non-contributional to society to... driving off somewhere unfamiliar and just disapearing.
My bank account is actually overdrawn pretty badly. Luckily, I have great coverage on my checking account - and the funny thing is - that I am so nerotic about not spending money if I don't have money, and always keeping myself covered - but now that i've passed the $0 mark, I could give a fuck if i'm $9 overdrawn, or $900.
READ: If you want something from me, now's the time to ask.
Maybe this is all just regular symptons of being 23 - and fuck if i've been saying for the entire year, that i fucking HATE my 20s - i can't wait to be 30. Why are the twenties so fucking hard? I thot the teens blew ass--- i mean, i was ugly as sin - at least that status has improved a little bit - the bitch fights with your parents - peer pressure, etc. Then you have the confusion of sexual functions, which i just royaly fucked myself over with because I waited to even kiss a guy til I was nearly 20 (insert "Loser" remark here).
Fuck man. I don't think I even want to be a writer anymore. I hate the deadlines. I hate my editors riding my ass all the time. I don't even have the juice to be creative and great at writing anymore.
But through all of this, one thing that remains consistent, is the big fucking black hair that keeps growing out of this freckle on my right hand. I pluck it every month, and I never notice it growing back, but it's always there; leering at me.
Does anyone else have this problem? Or a smiliar one like it?
Maybe it's just a body hair creeping up as a monthly reminder that I should really try a brazillian wax...
For example, my dress size. That seems to have fluctuated all the way to china as of late, and I can't find anything that i want to wear, at all. Maybe i'm just retaining a lot of water lately. Or maybe, it's the curse of being in a relationship and having the luxury of making your significant other do everything for you, while you lay in bed eating cheetos.This should finally help us to understand Britney Spears, kapish?
Henceforth, I have gone into extreme work-out, eat very little mode - which never seems to help. Plus i don't have the will-power of a man. What a cruel joke god played on us women when he created willpower. Maybe I should finally break down and try speed.
My job searching is also scattered. One week, I want my schedule like this. The next, I shoot down the other end of the carreer ladder. I go back and forth from dying to go back to school to doing something really non-contributional to society to... driving off somewhere unfamiliar and just disapearing.
My bank account is actually overdrawn pretty badly. Luckily, I have great coverage on my checking account - and the funny thing is - that I am so nerotic about not spending money if I don't have money, and always keeping myself covered - but now that i've passed the $0 mark, I could give a fuck if i'm $9 overdrawn, or $900.
READ: If you want something from me, now's the time to ask.
Maybe this is all just regular symptons of being 23 - and fuck if i've been saying for the entire year, that i fucking HATE my 20s - i can't wait to be 30. Why are the twenties so fucking hard? I thot the teens blew ass--- i mean, i was ugly as sin - at least that status has improved a little bit - the bitch fights with your parents - peer pressure, etc. Then you have the confusion of sexual functions, which i just royaly fucked myself over with because I waited to even kiss a guy til I was nearly 20 (insert "Loser" remark here).
Fuck man. I don't think I even want to be a writer anymore. I hate the deadlines. I hate my editors riding my ass all the time. I don't even have the juice to be creative and great at writing anymore.
But through all of this, one thing that remains consistent, is the big fucking black hair that keeps growing out of this freckle on my right hand. I pluck it every month, and I never notice it growing back, but it's always there; leering at me.
Does anyone else have this problem? Or a smiliar one like it?
Maybe it's just a body hair creeping up as a monthly reminder that I should really try a brazillian wax...
posted by Sami Jo at
9:18 PM
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