That's Why It

Ok, I actually didn't expect to miss a couple days of hey. Today was another payday of course, so I was at work of course. $280 kind of. Don't know. An actual hard day at work, I think. Just aggravating that everyone particularly knows about how avocados are when they're ripe. Really don't want to talk about that part, though. I'm kind of in the middle of fixing up my room. Thinking about what to put the stereo on top of and where to actually put it, in order to keep that side of the room as open-ended as possible- if that means anything to me. Kind of reluctantly making a place for CD's in my closet. Record are the only thing of that category that makes sense in a closet.

Also entertaining the idea of the whole steampunk-style bs. Er, that one post-apocolyptic deal just because such a place is my room, where I plan on manifesting myelf. You know- to celebrate the thought of where I ended up after all of anything. Anything big or small that has happened. Continues to feel like it, though. Trying to believe tomorrow's work will go by quicker. Today was just one of those "I did a lot of extra good stuff, but everyone else is going to only notice the negatives." I don't try to speak out about things like how I actually haven't made any mistakes so far. Only saying it here because of the whole cathartic thing. Hah! Speaking of which, one year ago the same situation about the actual word "catharsis." Just like in 5th grade when I knew that the symbol is called a 'hyphen' and I just didn't finish answering because I get that feeling of "my god, this has suddenly become the wrong answer." Plus, all these scrapes and cuts and general wounds I keep getting on the job. Working during my break. I don't know the rules. Am I more likely to "postal" because I keep it all inside?

I left a note on the "shift communication" thing, last week. When I finished writing it, I looked at it for a while. I looked at it for a while because I'm constantly aware of the camera right above me. The same reason I had those two dreams. I was looking at the note that I had written, and it made me think about how well I had actually crafted what I said. It showed my style of writing, a pretty good word choice, a main idea and its details, and some pretty outstanding grammar. All the things that they look for in the high school graduation writing tests. It was a tiny note, but still. For what? I'm working in a produce section. Is this proof that everybody eventually gets a job? This doesn't necessarily show my mood lately, though. I kind of figured this 6 day work week would get to me. Today was proof, to me, that there is such thing as a prototypical "hard day at work."

I can write well enough. So, I sort veggies.

Also impressed with... Well if I say it, then there goes the criticism. I'm trying to treat myself in the past as being another person, now, for the fact that I want to seem impressed by that guy. That guy actually impresses me, a lot. Mostly when I find old drawings of ours in old sketchbooks. I didn't expect to find more than what I already had in Fondue Social. Yet, I found that huge sketchbook of mine and struck gold.

What if people decorated the room with theme of their self? Neglecting all previous styles- reasonable of course, since everyone is subconsciously inspired. Agh, I don't mean "styles" exactly, but I mean to avoid actually going for that style goal. Kind of like how I'm considering the actual style-goal type of thing with that factory/clockwork/apoco-coco/stamepank thing I mentioned, for example. To actually set out to "decorate" your room and instead of looking in some vain of decent cliche, just putting a bunch of things that you did all over the place in a stylized manner. To do away with the obvious- posters of yourself or things you've put on paper, portraits.. self-portraits, actual printed and bound journals you've written, and hahah a bunch of tapes and dvd's of yourself kind of sitting around in your movie collection. Then you get to the furniture and that's where everyone differs the most. Self-made furniture is valid in the sense that you actually just built it with you in mind- whatever that might mean. Not in the sense that the piece of furniture is "an expression of yourself" because that actually ruins the entire concept I'm explaining. It'd make more sense to decorate previusly made stuff with just yourself. Once again, not little expressions of yourself, but actual aspects of yourself that most likely annoy you or others. What I mean is that the end-product is your own little idea, not the things in it.

In the immediate idea, any post-apocolyptic style is probably ideal because at that point, you can incorporate anything ever. Your room, or anything you're putting together, can actually just be the end of civilization and backward. Just set a date, and avoid everything after it. I don't do style, though. Hah as if people would ever dress that whimisically. Actually laughing at Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland because of how no one would actually do all that in their daily dress. I guess that's where he's going with his "you'd have to be mad as a hatter" in order to dress that way all the time. That's actually a better idea than I thought. I didn't think I cared. He's definitely one of those subconscious NLP teachers of ideas. I really didn't think I cared.

So after that "hard" day at work, all I'm thinking is fashion and style. That's legitimately "new." I'll see what I can do. Sounds pretty teenaged. But I go through my phases of whether or not I find anything redeemable about customizable clothing and interior choices.

Ok, that's the that's the.

Schnei

Lying there for a while. Hide under the blanket. Think about some other apartment. About time to wake up. Mom walks in room. What time is it? It was around 10, that's when the aquarium actually opens. I wasn't still sleepy, but yeah got up.

Also kind of just trying to come up with things to say, meanwhile. Eye-catching bs. Redeeming self for typing mistakes. One or the other. Obviously able to come up with a lot of good junk, but it's all coming out like gross and corn starch. Brown with corn starch. The fact that I'm slightly more familiar with corn starch. Flax seed. Roaches.

So, it was time to go. Actually did shower first thing, which I don't usually do. I shower in the mornings, yes, but not on the first trip to the bathroom. Not here, at least.

Actually had to "eenie meenie miney mo" about whether or not to wear what I was planning on wearing. Turns out the clothes I ended up picking happened to be right next to each other. I guess this red hoodie does make me look bigger, then. I saw my picture that they took at the aquarium. It's a mess. I've been going to work like that. Gah. Such a waste because this is always a slimming shirt. Ugh. No, my point is thatWait why I am missing this stuff. I'm out of it. Wish that had the connotation I was going for. All of this. It changes.

He

Oh yeah, and at the aquarium, it started to snow. We didn't know until we overheard someone telling one of the employees. Such a drastic change, too. What the hell, I can't remember the significance in chronological order. Frozen pizza, with a pun written on the box. The jokes people make of my names. Names. This is leading me somewhere, I'm sure. Ah yes, had to memorize loads of names. Photographic memory- of course! Hah. A call back. That's why the first person to explain photographic memory to me just peeked her head in to say hi. That John Mayer situation going on is just one of those stupid things people are wrong about. Yeah I was playing with photographic memory today. On the way back, I memorized a few license plates. I still remember them. One of them had the number(s) 1940, which might end up having some type of fallacy of a significance. The other was 9874. Less attractive because it doesn't look like a past year. I guarantee if I lived in a year like 9874, I would vomit at least once in that year.

I find myself asking why none of those girls who consider themselves to be the' type of girl to just tell people off' and what not, never say anything like that to me when I know that what I'm saying- reflected in their mindset- would definitely stir something up. Also just looked up "phobia of people's names" and ended up with nomatophobia. Could just be some jive. I honestly didn't think I'd be unable to focus at the end of this day. Hah Mr. Jones.

It sanowed yeah it sanowed today and there is the possibility of not having to work tomorrow. There. Already earned my 100 for the week, though. I guess the problem is that I either have a headache from my jaws again, or I have a headache from trying to concentrate which actually wouldn't even cause a headache.

done.

Seriously No Trend

Just need to remind myself to check that other 'professional' email account.

It's crazy to watch honey dripping into a bigger container of honey. I got a check. I don't know where it's from, though. Plus, I'm lying. Oh yeah, off tomorrow. I deem that my final chance to see that movie I've been trying to nab the opportunity to see. Agh, one of these 'update' types of posts. Well, I have much more to offer each day, but the problem is that, while I'm in someone else's house- the internet is stopped at 12 or earlier. Bullpie. But if self-indulgence and crazy notions about the future is (or are) the reason(s) I need to keep track of what the hell has the ability to go on...then, fine. I wonder if I'll have the.. oh my god I can't remember the 'I' word. Ok, "initiative." The initiative to ugh... 'draw' then I'll at least know I can think (heh can't remember that figure of speech) at the... _______. Or something.

That's what usually happens. Clearly, I'm allowed to give myself a break, but I can't tell. I don't have "anything on my mind." Seems like it's just goals. One of those "anything you set yer mind to. Hey." binds. I'm basically (ha a reason to use the word again) involved in this glitch where I'm able to describe a day that I wasn't supposed to remember.

Oh yeah, I need to sit and think of every single memory I can remember. I bet I can. The first one is always that time I fell off the go-cart at my dad's friend Martin's house. I can't remember if that where I got those scrapes on my face or if it was that time I feel on some brick stairs at the projects. Heh the go-cart was probably more bodily. Oh yeah and the time I laid on my back right in an ant pile, pretending to be a dog trying to get its belly rubbed. Uncle Jerry's friend, or whoever, rubbed calamine lotion on my back. Ugh. Still, if I can remember I poured honey and got a check today, then I should be good. Ah, and Tash driving me back here with Chaz. They got their apartment or whatever. That cake I ate today because it expired today. How I vividly remember one week ago, them being put in display. While my mom was being forced to listen to a joke that someone was forced to try to say. Pretending not to know specifics.

Ha, the juxtaposition of all the stupid places you end up in the course of your life. Hiking with people who would later become enemies, while imagining that you're a monkey or something. The first time I ever got a hold of the word "bee-otch" er "beyotch" or whatever. My aunt's Marilyn Manson phase and how incredibly unlikely that'd seem, kind of. Using my camcorder to record a music video about a "bandanna and a vendetta," not fully knowing what a "vendetta" is. And I'll always remember when I broke my favorite root beer mug. That entire apartment. Oh man, those kittens. Star. A dog named "Tank?" Gah, this all has existed.

Memories. Which reminds me. Photographic memory.