bless this earth, my soul, the universe.

me: seriously i'm better than that, what the fuck
ben: theyre just idiots
me: i don't care, they make me hate myself a little bit for not learning my lesson
ben: there is nothing wrong with you, they're fuckers if they dont realize how awesome you are
me: thanks, ben.
ben: anytime
me: it's been a long time since someone said i was awesome without me trying to be funny to impress them. so thanks.
ben: easy enough to tell the truth



so this totally made me cry.
it could be the ridiculous amount of alcohol i've had for a tuesday.
also could be that the closet-emo kid in me is really just who i am after all.
maybe i just really appreciate my good friends.


either way, now that i feel like a complete lame-ass AND put it on the internet, i'm going to bed.


i love bound stems.

that is all.

i'll have you know i'm scared to death

i realized, just now, that the closest i'm ever gonna get to walking gatsby on a leash is pulling on a piece of yarn that he's got in his mouth.

and all my life i've had that something to make me whooooooooooole again

the word "blogging" makes me think of this:




only, not that part, the part where they talk about jogging. i was too lazy to see if that was actually on youtube. haha.


this goes out to chris!


(harry potter is totally in that video).

say hello, say hello

i went for a job interview today.
i feel like this place takes themselves way too seriously, but what the hell. i need money. it fits into my b&n schedule, which i'm apparently keeping from now till forever since chris sat me down and said newsstand looks amazing and our sales have gone up since i started fixing it a month or so ago. a tiny bit of validation was all i needed to not rip my steering wheel off my car today.


anyway.
i was doing some thinking in the car, which is the only place i really think besides the shower....
i haven't called my grandpa to wish him a happy birthday. his birthday was january 10th. i know that makes me a super asshole, but every time i talk to them they totally make me feel like slitting my wrists for not having a career job yet. i'm supposed to have my entire life figured out because they had their entire lives figured out by 20.
this quarter life crisis that i heard john mayer sing about when i was 19 or so, and have heard about more and more since then, it's really awful. you graduate from college and if you don't have an immediate high-paying job, your family thinks of you as a failure. nevermind that the economy has gone to shit thanks to the president that some of them helped elect, and i'm supposed to be above that or some shit. but i'm supposed to have my entire life figured out now, and i'm not even okay with the idea of starting that life already. i'm 23. i have no fucking clue what to do with my life. everyone i know that has a high (compared to retail bullshit) paying job totally hates it, but they choose to live at home and their parents stay out of their way. i want to get out, my parents are up my ass, and at this point i'm convinced i will never make enough to get out, i'll end up living in their basement with gatsby and turning into the comic book guy, except he ran his own business so he can still be considered mildly successful.



i severely dislike my life.

minor annoyance

i thought of something.
previously unthought of by me, at least today, but anyway.

i was folding my laundry. i hate doing laundry. actually i kinda like it. it's ocd. but i hate having to do it. i guess. aaaaaaaaanyway.

for some reason i'm a moron when it comes to being able to tell if my shirts are inside out or not. i have a long-sleeve shirt i wear to work, that i could have sworn to high hell was inside out, so i stuck my arm up the sleeve to turn it around. i saw the cuff, and it was the way it was supposed to be and i was like "whaaaa?" so then i realized that i'm just a fuckin retard and the shirt was fine. but i was so pissed that i'd stretched out one arm and not the other. i wasn't about to stretch out the other arm, i don't like it when my clothes get stretched out before i wear them (which is basically never, but still). now, not only is one sleeve stretched out and gross, it's uneven. two things that will surely annoy me all day the next time i wear that shirt.


i guess it's not really minor, i'm kinda perturbed thinking about wearing it.

i had a dream last night we drove out to see las vegas

something i find really sad: i think of really awesome things to write about in the shower, and while i'm driving. two places i really can't write down any of my good ideas. apparently the universe is telling me i need those giant bath crayons, and also a tape recorder. needless to say, by the time i sit down here, all my "brilliant" musings and rants of the day are gone. not always gone forever, as i tend to space out at work and then go "OH!" and write something down when i remember it, but gone for now, and that sucks. i'm sure this post would be much more interesting if i were writing about something other than not ever remembering what i wanted to write about.


....



gatsby always looks pissed at me. tonight he looks extra-pissed, but that's hopefully because one of my parents shut him in the basement before they left a little while ago, and i spent about 20 minutes tear-assing through the house looking for him hoping he wasn't in the dryer.



mayday parade is my new favorite thing ever. this might be the first time i got into a band right BEFORE they rolled through town. town in this case means nyc, but still. i'm hoping i can go.
also, minus the bear is playing like a billion dates around here in april. going to as many of those as i can, those doods rule.


lost tonight. after last week, i think i can handle anything. fucking sayeed, haha. i need to listen to desmond speak more. his accent is wonderful.


ok. i'm gonna rock out a little bit since i'm home alone. also, i'm working on a blanket and i wanna get as much of it done as possible before i lose interest and put it in my bin of unfinished projects. it's a big bin. i have the attention span of a 16 year old.

ughhhhhhhhhhhh

flcl might be my new favorite thing ever.
it's more ridiculous than excel saga.
if that's even possible.
actually, it's probably not.



this house makes me want to go away for good.




i have more to write.
i just don't have time tonight.

this may end up being your downfall, but...

for some reason, and this might just be because up until i was 20 years old pretty much everyone i knew never cared what i had to say or never asked what i thought about something, or laughed at what i thought about something solely because it was what i thought, but andy cohen calling me to ask me a question and saying that he values my opinion made me feel good.



that is all.

experiments in audio rocketry

i used to listen to this show religiously. excluding summer breaks, of course, because jon's taste in music really doesn't do anything for me. but i stopped tuning in for a while. i listened 2 weeks ago. couldn't listen last week because i was out and about getting my accidentally awesome haircut, and wnhu doesn't come in on actual radio up here. but i tune in today, late as usual, to the start of "we looked like giants" by death cab, and all i could think was "omgomg deathcab." it's good to start with something you love a lot.

this town needs guns, nice.

i just made up the word "webvestigate." someone else probably thought of it first, but i'm kinda proud that that just fell out of my brain without me trying to be funny. it's not funny.

jeez, prog-y mathrock block, guys.

so i suppose i should start off (halfway through the post, right?) by saying that this new blog will be mostly ADD style ranty/empty posts about my reactions to things that happen, and also filled with a lot of nothing because let's be honest, i always have nothing to say. i feel like i haven't written enough lately, and also that my livejournal really just puts me in a mood to bitch about the same things. maybe it's because i know my friends on there don't read my entries unless i put youtube videos in them, and i'm too lazy to do that all the time. also, i know that no one will read this, save for a few close friends, so i can pretty much say anything without offending anyone. like i'm offensive as it is. blahh.


dear jon,
turn down the fucking voicebreak music when someone's talking.

sincerely,
wnhu listener


i hate the jazz song.

i'm gonna go do something. that's, of course, a lie. i will continue to sit here. but i feel like giving myself the opportunity to do something if i wanted to.