The boys wanna be her, the girls wanna be her.

Doll for a day.

Pretty fun outcome.

I only believe in looking like this if you have commitment.

No fucking point if you switch between looking like

your normal self and this.

Makeup is an illusion and you've got to keep it up.

But red eyeshadow to look brootalz, that is different.

*

I don't know how I'm going to survive the next 19 weeks.

If you come back in 10, however,

I think things would be made a whole lot easier.

Things are pretty difficult right now,

on my end.

*

Peaches, Copeland, Broken Social Scene.

It's simple really:

That I can survive these nine & a half hours a day, five days a week.

That I'll do my best and that'll be good enough.

That I'll have time for you and you, for me.

That you'll come home and we'll be great.

That we'll be happy.

Milk Crisis.

Internship: tomorrow.

Sleep: now (please).

Scared: very much so.

Need: barbar ):

Attention attention: May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room.

Okay, fuck. New layout cause of blogger's

new auto-pagination thingy, ugh.

Archives are ALL back up [I think], but you'll just have to

deal with the clicking of "older posts/ newer posts".

If it gets too annoying I'll change it back.

Alright? Alright.

Huddle formation.

Some of my posts are missing in the archives

and this displeases me, hopefully they'll appear soon.

*

In kind of a weird space now.

I'm dreading the start of my internship (Monday)

because of the working hours (8.30am - 6pm),

leaving behind my holiday schedule

(loafing, indulging in sloth-like behaviour,

hiding in bed at all hours of the day, skype-ing with barbar,

gigs, traipsing around with friends) and

general sense of doom

("Oh god, I can't write for shit, who am I kidding?",

"Oh god, I don't know what to do",

"Fuck shit damn" etc).

I have healthily low self-esteem.

I was trying to list the things that I have done

that I am proud of/good at and so far all I've

scrounged up would be

1) I am proud of how I've decorated my room & mac.

2) I am proud of the little flashes of brilliance in my writing.

Or at least the mildly interesting bits.

(Lady: "Your writing is... pretty, no doubt."

Seethe.)

What the actual fuck, I am dead serious.

Nobody cares about this shit, so I'm pretty much

set for destination in Life: Nowheresville.

*

Eyes shut, I push myself to remember.

An elephant never forgets.

Valium Knights

I just watched a million things on VBS.tv

and I feel slightly insane now.

Hamilton Morris is the bomb.

Can I just say that I now hold the dream

of writing for Vice, even though

people on their comment boards

keep parroting that it's going down the tubes.

I don't know, I haven't been around that long,

this looks good enough for me.

(Ignore the Dos and Don'ts though)

Um, I'm so motherfucking hungry.

My stomach is gurgling its disapproval.

Kind of worried that Mark won't make it back during Summer vaycay.

Needless to say I desperately need him to.

Pointless to point out that I'm just rambling.

Good night.