she needs direction.

Failure is the worse adjective to describe a person. It's actually the worst when you use it in context to yourself. I'm not saying that I'm a failure; it just seems that sometimes, on occasion I feel like a complete failure. And I just get so upset at myself for thinking that I am one. That feeling of getting upset at myself for thinking that I'm a failure feels worse than actually calling myself a failure. Make sense?...yeah, I don't quite rightly know what I'm trying to say either.
I'm not a failure. I'm just not a go-getter. I let things pass me by because I'm a coward.
Q: Which is worse: being a failure, or being a coward?
A: Being both.

er hat es ihr gegeben.

I think I'm getting close to figuring out what I'm trying to accomplish. I've been getting second opinions and working out the kinks. I've decided that maybe later in my life, like when I'm in my late twenties, I'd like to go to grad school so I can teach a history of design course. Of course, this all goes along with my long-term "shit I'd like to accomplish before I die" list. And of course, I'd need a job to pay off all my student loan debts, and then actually come up with the funds to pay for grad school. You never know: it could happen. A gal can dream.

Soul food is delicious...especially when you cook it yourself.

her own problem.

There's been alot going on with me lately. It's nothing bad, nothing that would drive me crazy. It's just shit that I need to figure out on my own. Shit that deals with my where I want my life to be going. Career-wise? Relationship-wise? Possibly. Possibly not.
I'd rather not even discuss it here with myself, because I honestly have no idea where I'm trying to go with myself. So, yeah, I'll just struggle internally with this mess and hope that something clever comes up.

And yesterday was a fun day...at least most of it.

this little row home.

I spent the night at Katherine and Al's, because there wasn't much else to do on Friday. Sometime in the middle of the night, she came up into the spare bedroom to tell me that she and Al were going to the hospital because this past week, she's been having terrible stomach pains because she has an ulcer now. Yeah. They came back at around 6am, and she was better.
We went to Ikea at around 10am because she got her refund check, and they're constantly making their house a home. I picked up some shit that I really needed, like kitchen shit. Then we went to Wal-Mart, and as much as I hate that place, I bought a vacuum, a memory foam pad for my bed and some cat shit for Sherman.
I was so excited when I finally got home...I love being domestic! I vacuumed the Trin, and washed all my bedding, and put down the foam thingie, and did the dishes, and rearranged my kitchen cabinets, and cooked dinner, and did more laundry, and cleaned the bathroom, and did more dishes, and swept the basement, and took a shower, and made up my bed...and yeah, I guess that's it. All that was done between 6 and 9pm. Now I'm just bored.

Tomorrow I believe Katherine and Al are taking a train into the city and I'll meet them at the car show. Should be fun. I like looking at cars...it fuels all my hot rod porno flick dreams.

And maybe tomorrow when I walk home, I'll go buy myself some flowers for St. Valentine's. Some calla lilies. Or maybe I won't...I'd have to buy a vase as well. No flowers for Leslie. I've never received flowers in my life; and I suppose buying them myself wouldn't be the same. I bet the feeling of being cared about is nice though.

I can't wait until I decide to go to bed tonite because I bet my bed will be stellar.

the way it goes.

I don't have anything to say really. I don't even know why I bothered to open this page. But I did. So I shall type.

Here's how I've been lately: better.
Here's how I want to be in the coming days: better.
Here's who I miss: the ones that make me smile.
Here's what I always think about: where I went wrong, and how I can save myself.

I think I've gotten to that point where I feel content, yet stuck in a rut at the same time. I don't know what to do. I just don't know about anything. I don't quite know what I'm doing with myself. Live from day to day, and have nothing to show for yourself at the end of the day...is that what it's all about? I always thought that I would do great things. I still think that I'm going to do something great. But I just wish that I had some idea as what I'm going to do, and when it's going to take place.
Am I going to have to move, or something? Is Philadelphia not the place where my mission is set? It feels right, but at the same time, it feels all wrong.

we meet again, friends.

The weekend has been rather eventful...at least for me. So in a nutshell: it involved lots of hanging out, and I think I saw more nooks and crannies of the city of Philadelphia on Saturday than I have in since I've lived here. Even if I didn't seem like I enjoyed it...I did. It was fun.

Why it never worked out: I'm a jerk with not many morals. But it's okay. Maybe from it all, and in the long run, I will have learned a valuable lesson in dealing with human emotion and relations.

It was good to see Alison today as well. On a whim, we hung out, and we went places. And for being SuperBowl Sabbath, I surprisingly landed the sweetest parking spot in front of the Trin with absolutely no driving around the blocks required...suh-wheat.

I just read Sheila's away message, which read: "Let's Go Patriots!" Ha. It's so good to here something other than Eagles. Not that I really care either way...though, I'm sure Philly will be a happy place if they do win because everyone would stop bitching and moaning.

Sherman has become a bit of a lap kitty.

mystery bruise.

Alright, I'm totally over whatever the fuck mood I was in earlier this evening. SAD BASTARD!...GET THE SHIT OVER YOURSELF! Done, and done. Not really, but shit, why would today be any worse than any other day? I couldn't answer myself, so I said I'm over it...once again.

Mean people just make me angry. No respect = no class.

she wants to be novel.

I just finished reading The Sirens of Titan about fifteen minutes ago. I know that I started it back in December, but lately I have this complex about finishing books. I think what it is, is that I don't want them to ever end. Therefore, I'll only read a few chapters or pages a night.

But, I had to finish it tonite. I'm probably the only nerd in history who felt like crying after reading this particular Vonnegut book. Sure, it was inevitably sad, but I think I wanted to cry moreso about the main idea. I had a similar idea back in my stoner days, and to read that same idea, which was written decades ago by perhaps one of the greatest writers ever just made me feel so at ease, and at the same time it made me feel so alone.

(Sigh)

So yeah. Out of all the ones that I've read thus far in my life, The Sirens of Titan is my new favorite Vonnegut.