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You'll always be my favorite, Xanga.
Unfortunately for us, the times they are a' changin'.
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College summed up:
- Freshman: Learner
- Sophomore: Worker
- Junior: Sufferer
- Senior: Slacker
Lessons summed up:
1) Jack on the rocks
2) Vodka/Red Bull
3) Tequila and Ginger
4) Rum and Coke
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I am so sick of all of this goddamn, motherfucking bullshit.
((UPDATE)):
I'm finally going to see NINE INCH NAILS in concert.
They're playing at the Wachovia Center on August 29th.
My ticket is for the mosh pit, and I got a good deal,
so all is right in the world
(despite all of this goddamn, motherfucking bullshit).
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OVERDUE DRUNK ENTRY:
“ I think most people spend a lot of time pretending not to be
animals. That’s the nature of being professional.
Some
people have real meaning in their lives. Few, I think. Others fill it
up with so much they can ignore the fact that it means nothing, and
the rest of us just numb ourselves with drugs and TV and buying stuff.
It’s hard to live seeing things as they are... It means you have to do something really worthwhile, or just be miserable. ”
- Guess Who
Against my better judgement, I decided to write.
Writing has become one of my only forms of consolation,
and no matter how many pathetically depressing entries I write
(and feel guilty about),
I can't but help do what makes me feel better.
"Well then why make it public?"
Probably because I have nothing to hide.
Do I care if people know almost every aspect about me?
Not really.
"So what do you want to reveal today, Mr. Sweeney?"
Mainly to point out how much my cat seems to know me.
I was falling out of my throne of a work chair,
and I made cross-eyed contact with her.
After a pause, she let out a consoling "mew,"
and preceded to jump on my lap and kiss my face.
It was cathartic, troublesome, and somehow funny.
If we're all animals, and I strive for some sort of acknowledgement,
can it be appeased by a simple housepet?
Apparently it can, and that's the troublesome element.
What is it that I strive for, and why is it both so complex
and yet so simple that a dumb animal can provide it?
Just attention? Is that ALL I fucking want?
Is this some tabloid where I just want to be loved?
Maybe... Maybe? ... Maybe.
My life is nothing but possiblys, sometimes, and maybes.
I lost my train of thought (AKA, I lost my buzz).
Maybe? I need a Maeby.
Her wit was hot
(But no cousin-love, thank you).
Fuck Facebook.
P.S. Sorry to everyone I ever made
uncomfortable at a party... LOL!
*fart*
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