elegantwaste's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i will sing a lullabye Upon saying that I was obsessed with Jack Johnson lately, my term for 'listening a lot to' rather than actual obsession, my manager said, "You seem to be obsessed with a lot of things. Is that why you don't get out much?" And dude, okay -- so maybe I don't go out and party every night or get drunk every weekend. But first of all, she doesn't know anything about my social life. And second of all, what the hell? That's not 'maintaining and enhancing' my self-esteem there, Kate. It's in the mission statement. Fucking coffee. I need to do something with my life. Get a real job. Fuckers. -- I got hit today with such a wave of desperate unhappiness, it made me call my mom, and ask to come home for the weekend. It also made me put on the Patsy Cline, which really doesn't help in these situations. Actually, it makes unhappiness much, much, worse. I'm such a tool. But regardless. Tomorrow I get to spend five hours getting there, to sit on my mother's back deck with a lemonade and a book and the cat and look at her garden. And maybe not call any of my friends back home. Just my mom. And I'm sure she'll make me talk, and I'll cry, and then I'll spend five hours to come back. So not worth it. But I haven't been home since, what. March? That's a while. Right? Le sigh. 7:10 p.m. - 2002-08-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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