Jumble
I thought I would amaze the rest of the world with my amazing use of parenthesis: ()()()()()()()() Now wasn't that just brilliant? Please, marvel at my skills!! And never forget the first law of Kiwi - she is always right. Even in her wrongness, she is right.
I'm sitting here at a late hour, not doing useful things like writing my story or putting things in little piles - clean clothes, not clean clothes, coffee mugs, redundant scribbled upon paper, books - nor am I contemplating going to bed any time soon. Going to bed would be such an enormous anti-climax. Sitting here doing nothing is also an anti-climax, but not on such a huge scale. Sitting here listening to sad songs about not being alright and not being fine and wanting to be ready to taste like wine (?!?!?!) is downright sad, in both terms of the word.
I don't understand how I can be so confident and witty and cleverly amusing when I am talking online, or even face to face, but not when I am sitting on my own. I think the biggest challenge is making yourself laugh. I'm wondering whether the real me is the bubbly, confident person with other people, or the miserable boring person without other people.
Maybe I should amuse myself and everyone else by quoting titillating tidbits of my younger self's diary:
"She said softly (or maybe it was the I-don't-know-how-many cigarettes smoked on the way to school) "Oh it doesn't matter. Really." 2004
"I've got to learn my animals for French." 2002
"She'll dump people left, right and centre, and end up eaten by Alsations like in Bridget Jones' Diary." 2004
"...and, according to her, 'cornered' her in the bathroom and almost had to force her to say she'd do it. She's so moody. She avoided answering three times, then stamped her foot and said 'yes sir!'. So he stood on her foot and she ran away..." 2004
"Me and Christine had a big fight while putting the recycling boxes out on the doorstep, but then again, what's new?" 2003 (What?? What happened here? Why does my younger self never explain potentially funny things??)
After skimming through seven diaries I discovered: three of them are from 2004; the entries are mostly very very very boring and about mundane things; and the most exciting thing that ever really happened was my parents arguing, but even that, by about 2005, was boring because it happened so often. Pfft.
(Him: Your neck looks rather rubbable.
Me: What's that?
Him: Tempting to rub.)
I'm sitting here at a late hour, not doing useful things like writing my story or putting things in little piles - clean clothes, not clean clothes, coffee mugs, redundant scribbled upon paper, books - nor am I contemplating going to bed any time soon. Going to bed would be such an enormous anti-climax. Sitting here doing nothing is also an anti-climax, but not on such a huge scale. Sitting here listening to sad songs about not being alright and not being fine and wanting to be ready to taste like wine (?!?!?!) is downright sad, in both terms of the word.
I don't understand how I can be so confident and witty and cleverly amusing when I am talking online, or even face to face, but not when I am sitting on my own. I think the biggest challenge is making yourself laugh. I'm wondering whether the real me is the bubbly, confident person with other people, or the miserable boring person without other people.
Maybe I should amuse myself and everyone else by quoting titillating tidbits of my younger self's diary:
"She said softly (or maybe it was the I-don't-know-how-many cigarettes smoked on the way to school) "Oh it doesn't matter. Really." 2004
"I've got to learn my animals for French." 2002
"She'll dump people left, right and centre, and end up eaten by Alsations like in Bridget Jones' Diary." 2004
"...and, according to her, 'cornered' her in the bathroom and almost had to force her to say she'd do it. She's so moody. She avoided answering three times, then stamped her foot and said 'yes sir!'. So he stood on her foot and she ran away..." 2004
"Me and Christine had a big fight while putting the recycling boxes out on the doorstep, but then again, what's new?" 2003 (What?? What happened here? Why does my younger self never explain potentially funny things??)
After skimming through seven diaries I discovered: three of them are from 2004; the entries are mostly very very very boring and about mundane things; and the most exciting thing that ever really happened was my parents arguing, but even that, by about 2005, was boring because it happened so often. Pfft.
(Him: Your neck looks rather rubbable.
Me: What's that?
Him: Tempting to rub.)
kiwiqueen - 5. Nov, 00:20
