A few weeks ago I started to regret not keeping a physical journal. This wave of regret washed over me as I watched Mortified Nation. But then, I remembered I still had old livejournals (and a deadjournal) from ages 14-21. I spent a few days last week re-reading all my entries. My favorite stupid quote was from 2003 and I was upset about something so this was my thought process: "I think I'll go to Addison's kegger tonight and get fucked up. I haven't puked in a while."
I keep forgetting to update this because I am confused about which form of media I'm actually interested in. There are so many that I keep trying to keep up, but I also realize I'm doing it for no one (but myself? strangers?)
Although everything is in constant flux, I keep trying to force myself to be content with whatever/whenever/always. I think I am! But sometimes I cry over dirty dishes or I'll forget that caffeine makes my heart race and then I start to rethink all my choices. Like 85% of my accumulated closet being uncomfortable. Or realizing all my blouses are too small. Or that I've held on to things that I need to get rid of for much too long.
I went to Mexico with my family and got stung by a sting ray in the first half hour of being in the ocean. Shuffle, don't run in the ocean in Mexico. Also, put your foot in near-boiling water for hours to neutralize that agonizing pain.
I started reading Lolita by Nabakov and I really hate it. I don't understand why this was a classic. This would be a perfect book for a book club because people can explain to me why the fuck this is so great?
I think we are really moving to the Bay and I'm excited/scared/unprepared/overprepared. I need to sell all my things.
I have too many things. At least my wrists and ankles are still thin.
