At one point in time, somebody e-mailed me, with a daria what the fuck, you never used to be so negative, pessimistic, anxious, you were always a strong person, and that was when I realized that I only posted in order to vent. I have been trying to do less of that, but still. Melodrama and venting can sometimes seem too one sided.
I have a paper journal/notebook/to do list/important info list that I can refer to when I need some information or when something happened. Granted, but at least I know that my personal information is safe since the organization of the paper notebook is such that at times it even eludes me.
Grown up and real life are fictitious concepts. I am 25, and that terrifies me. Although at least, I do not look 25. Otherwise I would have to act it *gasp*. Besides "grown-ups" talk about and do boring things. I never want to be like that. Another thing somebody said to me a bit ago, daria, nobody cares that you plan on getting you hair cut, and I was ever so thankful for that, because it is true, nobody does care,
( ... )
But now I hold back too much, I AM Repression and Silence, which leads to all those scheduled little things (I mean scheduled *substances*, "transfer my libidinal cathexis to them" hah hah hah) and bad things on Daria's trip. I hate things that *aren't* simple dichotomies, like Golden Mean and moderation and other such things that lead to Maturity. I used to talk too much, now I don't speak (write) at all, now there has to be an instance-by-instance, moderated way to do that. Fuck.
It was very very good to see you regardless. (Could have done without the vomiting at the end - but at least my tooth did not hurt ^_^*.) I don't write very artfully anymore, too many languages in the brain, my writing ability began its degeneration during the Japan trip and has yet to reestablish its past eloquence.
I feel like I was older a few years ago. O, to be a Grown Up. I love the Krees, though I'm an awful hermit and don't speak to her, and should start. Is that promise of art going to come true?
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I have a paper journal/notebook/to do list/important info list that I can refer to when I need some information or when something happened. Granted, but at least I know that my personal information is safe since the organization of the paper notebook is such that at times it even eludes me.
Grown up and real life are fictitious concepts. I am 25, and that terrifies me. Although at least, I do not look 25. Otherwise I would have to act it *gasp*. Besides "grown-ups" talk about and do boring things. I never want to be like that. Another thing somebody said to me a bit ago, daria, nobody cares that you plan on getting you hair cut, and I was ever so thankful for that, because it is true, nobody does care, ( ... )
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I hate things that *aren't* simple dichotomies, like Golden Mean and moderation and other such things that lead to Maturity.
I used to talk too much, now I don't speak (write) at all, now there has to be an instance-by-instance, moderated way to do that. Fuck.
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I don't write very artfully anymore, too many languages in the brain, my writing ability began its degeneration during the Japan trip and has yet to reestablish its past eloquence.
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Credit where credit's due, since I have so few brownie points.
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O, to be a Grown Up.
I love the Krees, though I'm an awful hermit and don't speak to her, and should start.
Is that promise of art going to come true?
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