Especially 'cuz I feel like a total Boo Radley sometimes at home---not a bad thing. I think a lot. And write, read, watch "Californication" for inspiration (that rhymes bitch!) Ya know, the usual.
But some of my friends are really flakey. Me and KB were supposed to go to Potbelly's today. But we're going with AS on Tuesday to discuss our apeshit nuts, wildin' New Year's plans. WHOOO!
And tomorrow's my birthday. Am I excited? Not one bit.
I am, however, very much looking forward to going to my favorite restaurant---Mexican food, and then going on the town and ideally, having a grand old time.
I just am always terrified to wake up on my birthday. My dad always makes a big deal of it. Okay, I love attention, but not about things I detest ya know? That Catholic guilt (gotta love it right?) always kicks in right at the most IDEAL of moments. Truly fantastic.
I can't wait till New Year's. We're gonna get so fucked up, in addition to hookah-ing. Ideally. We're gonna city it up that night, that's for certain!
Anyway, just a thought: maybe it's better I DON'T turn into a Hank Mood-esque writer. I just watched the latest episode, he tries to commit suicide.
Gotta love that tortured, artist crap. Like I say, I partake in self-torture. Not like cutting myself and shit (but trust me I certainly tried in high school when things were rough academics-wise, as well as took a shitton of pills---that was after my dad suggested I join the army 'cuz there wasn't any way I was getting into college. All subtly implied of course. Psh, fuck that shit.)
Anyway, aside from that, I mean, my anxiety issues are fucked up but it's gotten loads better. I'm more calm and at peace with myself which is all we want in life, right?
In any case, see? The only demons of mine are in my head. And usually I ward off that damn bell jar with great success.
Right now I'm perfectly tranquil. Just wrote a chunk more of my novel, thank God. Which reminds me I need to write that Christmas story. And get a Secret Santa gift. And write thank you cards. Fuck. I'll do that tomorrow before I go out. I need to go to the bank tomorrow too...Mom's orders. Not quite sure what the hell I'm supposed to do there, but maybe I'll buy some cigarettes on the walk there to commemorate my aging self.
I would pick weed and swishers over cigs any day, but hey what do you expect at a gas station? I haven't done any of those even THAT much in my life. I've probably smoked weed way more than swishers and cigs. But naturally, booze is more accessible.
My mom says alcoholism runs in the family and I want to tell her, "No Mom, just Irish blood, which is just as bad," but she'd think I was being cheeky and shake her head and disregard me.
I'm really bummed one my good friends can't make it tomorrow, she's stuck in some unidentified state. Swell. Oh well, the others can. I'll make the most of it.
It's probably kinda bad that I'll try pretty much anything. My friends joke about it, but I wouldn't go as far as coke, heroin and laced shit. Only organic or pure stuff...cannot be laced with scary shit that would fuck me up and send me to the hospital. But that's the thing with drugs, you never fucking know.
And thus, drugs is the ultimate metaphorical image for life.
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