My fan list seems to have hit a plateau. Being the attention whore that I am, this bothers me. I guess it's time to make that banner. Argh ... I'm no good at that fancy-schmancy stuff.Um ... anyone wanna make one for me? *bats eyes* ... pretty please?
Heh ... I suppose I can give this a shot myself ... I'm such a baby, aren't I?
So I'm poor right now. I have about 15-20 bucks to my name. And remember, I'm talking about Canadian money here.
So I thought that was no problem. I figured "Oh well, I just won't buy anything for myself until I get a job."
Then I ran out of deodorant. And allergy pills. And other various items I can't very well go without, like shampoo, and razors, and tampons (Woooah Lara, that's more than we needed to know, OK? ... Right. Sorry).
I always forget about basic necessities. Now, if I asked my mom, I'm pretty sure she'd give me cash for most of these things, but really ... I think I'm too old to have my mom buying my deodorant for me, don't you? It's enough that she lets me live in her apartment rent-free and pays my grocery bill (*sigh*, and therapy bill, yes ...). I'm a big girl now.
Right now I'm washing my nicer clothes and putting fresh resumes in my bag so that I have no excuse not to go out tomorrow and look for work. Because really, how much longer can I go on like this? I can't use my depression as an excuse forever. Not working or going out just exacerbates my depression, and the worse the depression gets, the harder it is to get out of the apartment and look for work. It's a vicious, vicious cycle. The sooner I do this, the better.
Speaking of depression, I'd like to thank Chiv for helping to talk me through my dreadfully black mood last night. And I'd like to apologize for venting like that, as well as for obsessing over that perfectly innocent comment you made about me seeming somewhat different lately. I should explain to everyone else ... I'm quite obsessive and paranoid when it comes to what others think of me. I don't deal well with vague comments, like "You seem different".
"Different? What do you mean different? Different how?"
"Uh, I dunno I just thought--"
"What? You thought what? How am I different?"
"Well I'm not sur--"
"Different bad, or different good?"
"It's nothing bad, I--"
"It is bad, isn't it? There's something wrong with me, isn't there?"
"No, no, I just meant--"
"Is it the way I talk? Have I become less articulate? I've been thinking that I've been less articulate lately."
"No! There's nothing wrong with you, really! I don't know what I was talking about! I was probably just imagining it or something."
"But you brought it up! It must be a big deal! Tell me how I'm different! I want to know! --- Um .. what's wrong? Why are you holding your head and sobbing?"
That's what I'm like. Oh, how I wish that were an exaggeration.
*sigh*
Oh, I forgot, here's some crap I wrote last night.
Written at Chapters on Sun, Mar. 10, '02 at 9:26 pm
OK. Remind me to quit leaving the apartment wearing skirts with bare legs in windy, 20-below weather. My skirt is long, but the wind repeatedly blew it up well above my knees, and I feared both freezing to death and exposing my undergarments to passers by.
So sue me, I hate tights, pantyhose, and anything else that resembles them. I don't care what sort of skirt or dress I'm wearing. The legs stay bare all the way down to my socks and boots. Er, did I mention I'm not into delicate footwear, either? Damnit, I don't care how long ago the skirts-with-Doc-Martens look has been out-of-style ... I don't care if I'm "sooo early nineties". Bite me.
Heh. I have issues with fashion.
I hate to admit this, but I think I may suffer from PMS. I never thought I did, aside from the usual cramps and breakouts, but last night I acted like such a whiny, oversensitive, ... um ... well, bitch. For no apparent reason. Just ... everything pissed me off or upset me. I apologize to those who had to put up with me. Maybe I have an excuse for my behaviour after all. I used to take the "It's not PMS, I'm always a bitch" attitude, but who knows? Maybe I am merely a victim of my womanly hormones.
Heh ... I don't even want to imagine what I'd be like if I were pregnant.
Back to the present.
Umm .. actually I don't think I have anything more to say. Except check out RipeCam, of course.
Bye.
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