Marc
In math class. Hate my instructor. Feel bad for his kids. They must be nerds. -- Me, 12/1/1997 journal entry
One. I was cleaning out some junk late last night when I came across my (ridiculously) embarrassing old journal. That's right. I kept a journal. And, before you rip on me, it was before I went emo. It was still in my punk/ska phase. How do I know this? Because I used to write snippets of lyrics I really liked at the end of each entry, and bands that I referenced included (but were not limited to) The Hippos, Slapstick, Less Than Jake, and so on. Only towards the end did I finally start going emo. I quoted a Tuesday lyric. God. I can't believe I just wrote about this.
Two. It's retardedly hot in our apartment right now for some reason. My computer says its fifty-three degrees outside, but it's almost eighty in here. Why? The windows are all open, yet there's no breeze. I checked the stove. It's not been running accidentally since I cooked mac'n'cheese this afternoon. What gives? Ugh. So. Sweaty.
Three. I'm going to go apply for a job tomorrow. I sincerely hope I get it, cause if I don't, I'll be mega-upset. Not like angry upset. More like I really need a job upset. It's at a daycare center. I think working with kids would be funny/fun. I must sleep now to get my beauty rest. I haven't had a job interview in probably five years. That's pathetic.
Four. There's this chick standing on the stairs next to my window right now trying to convince some dude to come over, and she's constantly using the phrases, "Come on, just come over!"; "Shut up! Just fuckin' come over, shit!"; "Jesus, just come over, okay?"; and, "Come on, just pretty please come over!" I'm going to shoot myself if this goes on much longer.
Up Next: Hail to the Thief by Radiohead; Don't Give Up On Me by Solomon Burke; and, Away b/w Radio (an Alkaline Trio cover) by Matt Fast.
Tomorrow: Job hunting.
In math class. Hate my instructor. Feel bad for his kids. They must be nerds. -- Me, 12/1/1997 journal entry
One. I was cleaning out some junk late last night when I came across my (ridiculously) embarrassing old journal. That's right. I kept a journal. And, before you rip on me, it was before I went emo. It was still in my punk/ska phase. How do I know this? Because I used to write snippets of lyrics I really liked at the end of each entry, and bands that I referenced included (but were not limited to) The Hippos, Slapstick, Less Than Jake, and so on. Only towards the end did I finally start going emo. I quoted a Tuesday lyric. God. I can't believe I just wrote about this.
Two. It's retardedly hot in our apartment right now for some reason. My computer says its fifty-three degrees outside, but it's almost eighty in here. Why? The windows are all open, yet there's no breeze. I checked the stove. It's not been running accidentally since I cooked mac'n'cheese this afternoon. What gives? Ugh. So. Sweaty.
Three. I'm going to go apply for a job tomorrow. I sincerely hope I get it, cause if I don't, I'll be mega-upset. Not like angry upset. More like I really need a job upset. It's at a daycare center. I think working with kids would be funny/fun. I must sleep now to get my beauty rest. I haven't had a job interview in probably five years. That's pathetic.
Four. There's this chick standing on the stairs next to my window right now trying to convince some dude to come over, and she's constantly using the phrases, "Come on, just come over!"; "Shut up! Just fuckin' come over, shit!"; "Jesus, just come over, okay?"; and, "Come on, just pretty please come over!" I'm going to shoot myself if this goes on much longer.
Up Next: Hail to the Thief by Radiohead; Don't Give Up On Me by Solomon Burke; and, Away b/w Radio (an Alkaline Trio cover) by Matt Fast.
Tomorrow: Job hunting.
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