doesn't it just suck to fill in these things? i mean-- it forces you to actually have to think. ick.
Grrrrrr!my brain isn't working right now, it's on a paracetamol overdose. not that my brain actually does work when not on any kind of overdose, really-- i can play the guitar. meaning to say that when i strum it, the produced sound does not resemble that of a cat in heat being cut in half with a rusty circular saw.
when i get all emo-ish, rather than donning black plastic-framed nerd glasses, cropping my hair all short and messy, wearing grandpa sweaters over a band tee and black converse hightops, carrying a messenger bag covered in patches and pins (bought at Hot Topic but one tells everyone that one got them at shows) and walk around with a face like my mom just died as the masses do, i write. anything from poems or abusive, profanity-laced blog posts.
i don't fancy myself an artist, but i do draw and paint and color in pretty pictures. either just for the heck of it, or to express something i can't put in words.what fascinates me are the enigmas of life, the darker side of things, death (but not in the omg-im-so-emo-i-cut-my-wrist way), weird-cool spiritual stuff and the psyche of people. particularly those with probl--er, personality enchancements like sociopathy.
i love reading. (though you could probably figure that out from my rant about books in the favorites bit.) i could happily spend my afternoon at Starbucks/Gloria Jean's/The Coffee Club/any other establishment that has coffee with a cell in hand and a good book.
as much as i love spending time with friends and meeting new people, i enjoy my solitude when i choose to have it.
i love weird, deep discussions over things that will probably never matter in your lifetime--disproving that time travel exists, whether we all see the color blue the same way, why abbreviation is such a long word, why hate exists, the purpose of meaning etc.
either that or i go off on some random tangent on the abolishment of valentine's day, or the best way to torture someone without harming them much, or that camels with three humps would survive longer than those with two so why didn't God make those instead..
if this paragraph already bores you, i'll take my deep rantings somewhere else and talk about the stock exchange and the latest spring fashion and such other boring-ass adult stuff.
i'm an extremist. i can be a sweetheart just as much as i can be dangerous. as for the rest, it's for you to find out. a little mystery never killed anyone. -insert sweet, innocent smile here.-
i cant think of much more, except to say that I LIKE CHOCOLATE. very much. wheehee. yeah, random. sorry.
Note to self: Do not humor yourself by posting on a public blog, woman. Geez, there is a basketful of laundry waiting to be sorted out. Tsk tsk tsk.
And please, on the next post, start each sentence with a capital letter. Dork!
Signing off,
Fyy.
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