A tiring day yesterday.
The day of which, without adequate self control, half the hair on my head will be somewhere at a bottom of a dustbin.
First, after waiting for a late bus for 40 minutes, in rather hazy conditions, and then approximately an hour of stuffy ride, I step into LUCT and a friend immediately tells me that class is cancelled. The time, 9.23am. The next class, 4pm. 7 hours to kill. Kill time I mean, not the lecturer, although I did comtemplate the latter idea for the first 30 minutes.
Second, after typing a longggggg email to a friend of mine and nearly till the end, out of the blue, although I think you may have guessed by now, the browser suddenly hangs, and it reverts to the page before.
A nerve in my brain almost went *pop!*
But it doesn't matter now. If I were as I was a few years back, I would had kept this anger and this *missing* in my heart. But soon I came to a realisation that it doesn't help at all. Besides adding unsatisfaction and dismay, it does nothing else. What else is there to do, but to take a deep breath, release and start over. For the letter I can either practice my rotting memory skills or exercise some creativity skills. I did both, and did the latter first at the beginning by diversifying some #$%#^$#^ words.
I really wanted to throw a fit actually. Note the word, wanted. I hate Monday mornings.
Currently resting from avid blog surfing today.
Instead, was digging out old movies to watch. The amount of dust on it is incredible. By the end of the seacrh and collect, my shirt and hands are covered in white. So far have watched 5 movies. It's for one of me class and am classifying it as homework. And now am suffering from movies overload (if there are such things).
Somehow along the way, I ended up surfing for gothic stuff. Started from Victorian house actually. Anyway, some Goth dresses seem grafity-defying. Some platform-stilletos are so high, that by just looking at them, I get dizzy.
Feeling slightly guilty for not doing housework today. Me mam's a bit miffed that I didn't wash nor iron clothes. On must-do list when I wake then. Never was in my veins, things like this. Some girls are just born with neat and motherly instincts, with qualities that society deems feminine. Maybe the Creator of souls mixed me up with some male genes then.
Just for the record, am heterosexual. Even though I appreciate female figures, where most of my drawings are girls/women, still prefer the opposite sex, because I like, as Sandra Bullock puts it, what they come equipped with.
Reminds me of MataSepet somehow. Whatever you might be thinking, it isn't it. The last I heard of him is him working in some club or smthg. And that he's gotten chubbier. Good luck, man.
The days of blue pinafores, white canvas shoes, bags with lovely number of compartments and the raindrops apparent on these uniforms. I remember running into it, just for a sliver of sight. The sky slowly polka-dotted my pinafore. Everyone clad similiarly, and it's up to yourself on how to be to remembered.
Depressed days. Lonely days. Mischief days.
I'm glad I had someone to make these days memorable, and be fondly looked back upon. However oblivious you are, thank you, for the bittersweet days.