Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I Don't Care if It Hurts
Today was a good day.
I slept in later than usual because I didn't have to be at the radio station until around 10am. I use "around" loosely because I was up until 2am baking mini apple pies (and yes, they were as delicious as that sounds - and all homemade!). It was my first big baking adventure mostly since I really just wanted to impress my coworkers and boss (and succeeded). It was fun too. Got the ingredients. Watched Doctor Who while they cooked and joked around with the Bestie too of course. All around a good night.
Now, back to today.
Because of all the time I felt I had since I didn't give a fuck if I didn't show up at the station until maybe 11am, I dressed up. Favorite casual-ish dress, black tights, nice black flats, hair down, make-up on - the whole she-bang.
Perfected my playlist. Rode the bus listening to Nada Surf after years of forgetting about them. Which meant stepping away from all the depressing shit I have been listening to (i.e. Fever Ray, Philip Glass).
Got the news I was going to appear in the campus paper. Someone comes by the office and snaps some photos. Supremely happy that such an occasion occurred the same day I decided to dress up.
At other work, everyone loves the mini apple pies. I do a lot of good, productive work instead of sitting around, anxious that someone will catch me looking at page after page of tumblr.
Come home and...well, now I'm just pissed. Sad. Tired. Oh so fucking tired. And kind of just...unmotivated. I was having this stream of eating less calories, getting some healthy food into my system, working out and it takes one curious thought to make it all stop.
Remember that person I said I knew went to prison? It's all over the news now. It's stopped for now but people are posting things on his Facebook. Commenting on all the online articles.
I want to scream. Punch something. Sob.
I'm afraid I'm doing that last one right now.
Suddenly working out isn't so important. Writing that WritePlacer Essay isn't at the top of my list. I just want to go visit him and curse him out. Make sure he understands that he's ruined everything. Not just his life but my family's, victims and you know what? My life.
My make-up's messing up.
I'm listening to "Creep" over and over.
It shouldn't matter, readers. I shouldn't be wasting my time on him. I shouldn't let him get to me. I shouldn't let him ruin my life.
I guess I'm just a masochist.
XOXO
Jacks
I slept in later than usual because I didn't have to be at the radio station until around 10am. I use "around" loosely because I was up until 2am baking mini apple pies (and yes, they were as delicious as that sounds - and all homemade!). It was my first big baking adventure mostly since I really just wanted to impress my coworkers and boss (and succeeded). It was fun too. Got the ingredients. Watched Doctor Who while they cooked and joked around with the Bestie too of course. All around a good night.
Now, back to today.
Because of all the time I felt I had since I didn't give a fuck if I didn't show up at the station until maybe 11am, I dressed up. Favorite casual-ish dress, black tights, nice black flats, hair down, make-up on - the whole she-bang.
Perfected my playlist. Rode the bus listening to Nada Surf after years of forgetting about them. Which meant stepping away from all the depressing shit I have been listening to (i.e. Fever Ray, Philip Glass).
Got the news I was going to appear in the campus paper. Someone comes by the office and snaps some photos. Supremely happy that such an occasion occurred the same day I decided to dress up.
At other work, everyone loves the mini apple pies. I do a lot of good, productive work instead of sitting around, anxious that someone will catch me looking at page after page of tumblr.
Come home and...well, now I'm just pissed. Sad. Tired. Oh so fucking tired. And kind of just...unmotivated. I was having this stream of eating less calories, getting some healthy food into my system, working out and it takes one curious thought to make it all stop.
Remember that person I said I knew went to prison? It's all over the news now. It's stopped for now but people are posting things on his Facebook. Commenting on all the online articles.
I want to scream. Punch something. Sob.
I'm afraid I'm doing that last one right now.
Suddenly working out isn't so important. Writing that WritePlacer Essay isn't at the top of my list. I just want to go visit him and curse him out. Make sure he understands that he's ruined everything. Not just his life but my family's, victims and you know what? My life.
My make-up's messing up.
I'm listening to "Creep" over and over.
It shouldn't matter, readers. I shouldn't be wasting my time on him. I shouldn't let him get to me. I shouldn't let him ruin my life.
I guess I'm just a masochist.
XOXO
Jacks
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