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I'll make this simple. This diary has become a visual diary. Cut dry, to the point--nothing special. I'm an artist, but I'm not trying to be one here. I'm just showcasing what I feel, think, and see.
Welcome.
...and please pick up your mess before you leave!
speel chek
medium: speeding cars
theme: *ow!*
Dry.
The winds have sucked all the moisture from the local atmosphere. Skin is cracking & crackling as I type. Need...water...must have...water.
Have a strange urge for goat's milk ice cream. Don't ask...I just remember liking that stuff as a kid.
I'm wondering if my temporary job just became a real job now that I'm on payroll. This scares me in a very vague way. Okay, twist my arm why don't ya, I'll admit that I'm freaked out about getting a job of any kind because I don't want to get locked into the same situation as at the cafe. "No, you can't quit! There's no one here to take your place!" *bangs head on desk for dramatic effect* Don't remind me, I can quit at any time right? Then why do people always pull fucking guilt trips on me {and I fall for it}?
"But you're so wonderful & get the job done..."
...and I don't do anything a trained monkey couldn't do. So yeah, I know my alphabet. What's it to you?
Maybe I'm just disgruntled because it's that sunny-cheery time of the month when I feel like it's time for a sex change.
added by aqua-luna on 03.28.03 11:14 p.m.