Rubber Ducky, You're The One

I love feeling clean. If my face is washed and bright, my hair clean, my teeth brushed, my lips chapstick'd, my skin lotioned, my deodorant applied, and my clothes fresh and neat, I feel like I can endure anything. Absolutely anything. Bring it on, I say! I am feeling completely up for it! Nothing can get me discouraged!

And truly, nothing can. It's why shaving my legs is an automatic mood fixer for me. I feel neat, capable, and pretty. The perfect mix for world conquering, I say.

But deprive me of that shower, and I get weird. It's a lot like being in a bad relationship. Well, maybe not really a bad one, I have miniscule-to-zero experience with those. Just a boring relationship. You start feeling caged and frantic, and it always ends in tears.

And then you just feel more disgusting and unappealing, and terribly unspeakable things can happen then.

I Am Like A Star Shining Brightly

Hello, blog. Do you know what you do to me? Do you?

No. You cannot. You're just a bunch of <'s and /'s. There is no way for you to feel the things you do to me. The trauma you put me through. Though it would be an interesting exercise to strap you down, dismantle you like a hopeless game of Scrabble, shake all your codey letters up, and see what it spells. Perhaps hidden in the html lies a portent of my own doom.

Probably. Because this is what you do to me. I sit down to write at you (In you? Through you - yes, through you), because I have so many things to SAY, and there is so much I FEEL - and then I find myself absolutely overwhelmed, and I scrap the whole bit and go gad about youtube instead.

But there are many things to tell you about, like how my printer, it is gone. Out on vacation perhaps, tired of all the paper jammed up into its innards. I can't really blame it; wish I'd known about the jam sooner, perhaps we could have larked around Central America together. Ah, HP 5500. The thousands of dollars I spent on your ink. The pounds of dust I allowed to accumulate on your sleek shell, because no matter how diligently I went at it with a damp towel, it always came back again FIVE SECONDS LATER.

Or also, how about the fact that I own a PS3! Yes! It is amazing. It is sleek and shiny and powerful, and if it were a man, he would be just my type. The games! The graphics! The frequent and humiliating circumstances of my newb deaths! This, truly, is life.

Or. Well. I could tell you that I've been feeling a bit down lately, in a sort of rutless, vague - rut, I suppose, but now I am better. I shone! Only for a fraction of a millisecond, but I felt it. It tickled in my bones.

And that's all I have to say to you right now.

I Need Ideas

Do you know how many movies I have watched over the past two days? Legion, for they are many. This is what happens when I'm suddenly not working over fifty hours a week. Suddenly I have boundless freedom, and it paralyzes me!

Well, and also, I realize that I can't just sit around playing video games. I mean, I would, but I have other people to pay attention to, and they don't really like it when I disappear for eighteen hours.

But I've cleaned a lot! And it just goes right back to being messy! I've spent hours and hours scrubbing unmentionable things over the past few days in preparing a Christmas Surprise, and my greatest fear is that entropy will take over before any of the surprisees get to enjoy my hard work and devotion.

Screw the universe.

Also, I'm making some sort of shrine in my bedroom to kind of fill up the void that a second girl living in that immense space would normally take up. I have a plug-in Christmas window candle sitting on a black crate covered in cloth so far. Any ideas of what else I could put on it? I'm happy just with worshiping Christmas window candles; I love the things. But...maybe I need more.