i think i am going to be one of those crazy vain old ladies. you know, the ones who have a million pictures of themselves on display for everyone to see? that kind. i don't know if it's purely out of vanity though, because i like seeing the evolution of my maturation. it's not as though i am going to have just my face all over the dusty walls of my house. i want to see where we all were at a certain point and why we aren't together anymore or what made us stronger. i want to see my life all over my walls. i suppose that's why i started putting up postcards, ripped pictures, glossy magazine editorials and crappy printouts of pictures on my walls here. it's an easy walk down memory lane. but it's so morbid to think about what i am going to be like, or rather how i hope to be, when i am older. i am not talking fifty years old here. i am definitely talking about the eighties and the nineties. that is prime senility right there. i hope to be the most senile. and i won't even know it!

i am feeling awfully motivated. i am not exactly sure why i am motivated but i kind of like it. i don't talk about work anymore, so don't even ask. it's not my cup of tea--and that's saying it nicely--so when i leave at four, i really leave and mentally check out at four. it's nice and really rather liberating. i am halfway done my contract and then it's all up in the air for what my future holds. school? maybe. job? probably back at starbucks if i go to school. it's easy cash dollars. fo realz. i have squirreled away some money and i love seeing it grow. but, more often than not, i get really tense when i use it to put on my visa or spend it on something. not saving and spending it on shoes, clothes, perfume, books , vacations and hair appointments prevent me from being tense. that is such a stupid way of thinking. i am trying to reverse it.

but enough of that! i am alone and sitting on my bed with hot rollers in my hair. i did the dishes, cleaned my makeup brushes, made dinner, watched my soap and am getting ready for yoga and cat litter duty. i think my cat likes the smell of his own piss. it's a hoot. he never actually makes it to the litter box sometimes, just around it and on the mat. he is male. aw yeah that is awful. retreat. abort last statement. downloading is such a bitch these days because rogers is an asshole with an affinity for making me internet-less for fun. my music blog is lacking. revamp soon with more updates. man, when i am a real journalist, i am going to be so happy. maybe even a real writer. wait a minute. i am a real writer!