#12.30.12

I KNOW I MISSED ANOTHER DAY.

GOSH, FUTURE ME. STOP COMPLAINING.

sunday.

7:26 pm

SO FUCKING COLD HERE IN CANADA.

other than that, i am so fucking tired...

i cannot wait for this to end...

cold and tired and hungry do not mix well together.

yesterday was not interesting at all so don't worry you didn't miss much

today was better though.

we did a lot of stuff... but the thing is i didn't have any sleep last night. so NO SLEEP FOR 48 HOURS

so i'm like really tired right now.

we rode the metro, went to the CN tower, was about to go up, but it was 200 fucking dollars so HELL TO THE NO to that, and then took the bus to go to this big ass mall filled to the brim with cranky and out and proud gay people (not that i have anything against that), and then ate food, and took the metro and got home just now.

okay i must admit, it's not that late. but im still tired. don't judge me.

okay time for questions

16. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you?

my mother?? lol although she's going through menopause, i still love her nonetheless.

she's been very cranky lately... but it's a mid life crisis and i understand that. i feel like i'm going through that already. sigh...

well imma go try to sleep

goodnight and goodbye

forever sighing,

1 + 2 = 3 + 0 = 1 + 2

Also:

(1 * 2) + 3 + 0 = 12 base 3

Also:

1 - 2 + 3 + 0 = 1 * 2

Also:

Nothing was written that was coming up as even marginally astounding. And by astounding, I meant a wonderful piece of work that I could claim as mine. For the record, I didn't aim to be 'good'. I strive to be wonderful when it's impossible to be the best. Since writing was a hobby and sense of expression, competition only remained as sources of inspiration.

I looked at the blank computer screen with frustration. What the hell was there to write about? The disastrous pattern of men that I encountered in my life had felt too much of an irritable routine to type up. The road of my twisting love life had come to a period of fog outlets, not much to discuss there. The emotions I had felt lately for the generality of my life, these days was too complicated for my exhausted mind to even try to decipher at this time of night. I scratched at my cheek, my long hair feeling too much of an irritation to leave down. I sighed as I started to gather all the strands I could manage to fit through a ponytail.

Once done, I tried to imagine a situation. A man and woman on the path to something great, or maybe tragic. A tragic man in his world of despair? Gosh, it was all too... typical! I couldn't feel any words come into my head whenever an idea popped up. This writer's block was nothing short of irritating, for sure.

Yet I had to write something. I had my infamous itch which led my fingertips quivering for some story to be told, or some topic to be discussed. I couldn't find myself revolve enough jumbles of letters around one thing. Not enough adjectives came to mind for the description of something worthwhile. I had no verbs within my reach to stage something magnificent.