2002-07-22 - 11:43 p.m.
I really want to take my above heading as the cue to commence a little bitch-fight with karma whereby I get to pull her hair and call her names and maybe even give her a nice resounding SLAP! but...
I swear I had a reason against the idea but now have forgotten. Daaaang.
Instead shall instead take this moment to pick myself up off the floor, and find myself re-energised because just the mere threat of violence (thanks for the inspiration woman) has made karma dramatically change her tune.
It's like before now she was blasting out r'n'b to the likes of Nelly and what-have-you while I writhed in pain on the floor screaming at the horror, but now she's up and changed the station to a pop-rock-alternative kinda beat and looked at me and said "Duuude, can you dig it?" and I've given her a drunken squint and two thumbs up, because in this metaphor we're both on drugs for no apparent reason.
What has brought on this wave of energy and new lease on happy (if you can have a lease on life, I figure you can have a lease on happy ... a short lease, but nevermind)?
The final getting rid of Maths Guy and his stalk-ful mother! And what you may wonder has gotten what has been the bane of my existence, in at least the last 20 entries of my life, out of my so-called life? (Click the link to past entries below for further proof of the horrible dragging of this catastrophe across my lil life)
It's a horrible conclusion in that it was so damn obvious that not only do I want to kick myself now, once you read this (if you haven't figured it out already) you'll want to kick me too.
I asked. I was explicit. I literally said "I want this over," and he basically went "Okay."
You can't see me now but I'm doing my happy dance around the place, and although I can't see you I imagine you are all slapping your foreheads and bitching under your breaths about having to read (or in some cases, skim) all my whining, bitching, and anxiety attacks re:this.
Y'know, this directness thing cannot be rated highly enough. Well, it probably can, but right now I feel as if not. I know people who would swear by it, but I never wanted to take the risk of it before.
Although even now it took a hell of a lot of pushing to make me try. But you know what? I feel like I could do this again, maybe.
I feel one step closer to something better. Seriously, could not feel more exultant if I had violins playing to accentuate the mood.
... Well, maybe a little. But anyway, where was my track? Right, something better. Now that Mr. Wrong (but since you don't believe in a Mr. Right, you kinda wanna settle with him) is bye-byes, I can put my focus on Mr. Wrong (but it feels so right! A.k.a. F-M-H-B) and Mr. Potential Not Wrong (whom I'd like to have as a friend, if not more, if I see him again a.k.a Smart Guy)
The part that I love of having to do work is the list making of what needs to be done, and then the sense of accomplishment in being able to cross it out.
So mentally right now I'm reading the list of the billion things I need to do to get my ideal life, and am happily scribbling out the last one with a giant red pen.
Also catch myself smiling at task #999 999 999 999 with a fresh sense of optimism, I can do this...
I don't want you to think I'm getting carried away, because the truth is I'm already gone.
My head is in the clouds right now and my feet are definitely not on the ground, but as I fade away I have just enough time to wonder "How many numerals are there supposed to be in a number which is a billion minus one?"
Answers appreciated.
I swear I had a reason against the idea but now have forgotten. Daaaang.
Instead shall instead take this moment to pick myself up off the floor, and find myself re-energised because just the mere threat of violence (thanks for the inspiration woman) has made karma dramatically change her tune.
It's like before now she was blasting out r'n'b to the likes of Nelly and what-have-you while I writhed in pain on the floor screaming at the horror, but now she's up and changed the station to a pop-rock-alternative kinda beat and looked at me and said "Duuude, can you dig it?" and I've given her a drunken squint and two thumbs up, because in this metaphor we're both on drugs for no apparent reason.
What has brought on this wave of energy and new lease on happy (if you can have a lease on life, I figure you can have a lease on happy ... a short lease, but nevermind)?
The final getting rid of Maths Guy and his stalk-ful mother! And what you may wonder has gotten what has been the bane of my existence, in at least the last 20 entries of my life, out of my so-called life? (Click the link to past entries below for further proof of the horrible dragging of this catastrophe across my lil life)
It's a horrible conclusion in that it was so damn obvious that not only do I want to kick myself now, once you read this (if you haven't figured it out already) you'll want to kick me too.
I asked. I was explicit. I literally said "I want this over," and he basically went "Okay."
You can't see me now but I'm doing my happy dance around the place, and although I can't see you I imagine you are all slapping your foreheads and bitching under your breaths about having to read (or in some cases, skim) all my whining, bitching, and anxiety attacks re:this.
Y'know, this directness thing cannot be rated highly enough. Well, it probably can, but right now I feel as if not. I know people who would swear by it, but I never wanted to take the risk of it before.
Although even now it took a hell of a lot of pushing to make me try. But you know what? I feel like I could do this again, maybe.
I feel one step closer to something better. Seriously, could not feel more exultant if I had violins playing to accentuate the mood.
... Well, maybe a little. But anyway, where was my track? Right, something better. Now that Mr. Wrong (but since you don't believe in a Mr. Right, you kinda wanna settle with him) is bye-byes, I can put my focus on Mr. Wrong (but it feels so right! A.k.a. F-M-H-B) and Mr. Potential Not Wrong (whom I'd like to have as a friend, if not more, if I see him again a.k.a Smart Guy)
The part that I love of having to do work is the list making of what needs to be done, and then the sense of accomplishment in being able to cross it out.
So mentally right now I'm reading the list of the billion things I need to do to get my ideal life, and am happily scribbling out the last one with a giant red pen.
Also catch myself smiling at task #999 999 999 999 with a fresh sense of optimism, I can do this...
I don't want you to think I'm getting carried away, because the truth is I'm already gone.
My head is in the clouds right now and my feet are definitely not on the ground, but as I fade away I have just enough time to wonder "How many numerals are there supposed to be in a number which is a billion minus one?"
Answers appreciated.
