Time to come clean. . .or dirty

When it comes down to pure ornamental cursing, the native American is gifted above the sons of men.

-Mark Twain

Alright, enough with the crap. I need to stop censoring myself in my very own blog. I don’t even believe in censorship! Please don’t be shocked by my blatant use of language. ‘Tis only in writing.

I really want to live in fuckingnewyorkcity. And I want to drive wherever I want. And I want to wear what I want and not care if it matches or goes or anything. I want new clothes, crazy, interesting ones. I want necklaces so I can go out looking absolutely ridiculous, like an old rich cat lady who goes out in all her jewelry like Madame…ah crap what was that? And what was it from? Oh, Titanic! That was it. Sorry, that was a bit of a delay from our normal programming. Ahem. . .I want menial busy work to die. Worksheets, die. Grades and tests and crap: please,  just die. How is a sixteen-year-old supposed to enjoy her new freedom in the world if her pile of textbooks is blocking the view? I want to go to the Yule Ball and party and dance all night long in a gorgeous dress with people who understand my happiness. I want to feel infinitely infinite. I think I am starting to feel the reason why teenagers engage in illicit activities and illegal drug use; by the time one reaches sixteen, you’ve felt it all! Frankly, I am bored. Plain old bored. I keep having fleeting thoughts of how to once again feel the epitome of happiness, but it takes a lot of planning, and depends mostly on circumstance. Oh, universe, how I loathe you and you’re strange ways! Books and mystery and maybe music keeps me entertained, but routine is setting in at an all too comfortable pace. Maybe that’s why I cut my hair. Maybe I was simply bored.

Another factor might be the fact that I am no longer writing a novel. I am, instead, dreading January, the month which I am allowing myself to go back and re-read the fragmented plot. I will be sure to bring lots of band-aids and plot glue and character flaws; I’m sure going to need that.

Also, how ridiculous does this sound? I want to be EPIC. That is the only way to describe it. Okay, I think that’s enough of my rambling tonight. Toodles!


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