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elljay mundanity
Sometimes I feel like making really shallow and embarrassing posts -- shallower and more embarrassing than normal, that is. I suppose things have been a bit intense lately. But you know those days when you want to do very annoying things on your journal like post 5000 gratuitous cat pictures or talk about your crush or redo your layout so that it's more pink or do a quiz that tells you how emo you are or randomly post Ani DiFranco lyrics* ("Gravel," if you're wondering)?
I'm having one of those days. An evening of shameless indulgence, if you will. So go ahead -- post anything in the comments. Song lyrics, memes, cat photos, anonymous confessions of lust in faux-chatspeak, etc. Consider this an open invitation to post in my journal anything that places you on the lower levels of the blogger hierarchy.
* I don't even like Ani DiFranco very much. I like that song, though. I was bopping around the apartment singing it last night for some reason.
I'm having one of those days. An evening of shameless indulgence, if you will. So go ahead -- post anything in the comments. Song lyrics, memes, cat photos, anonymous confessions of lust in faux-chatspeak, etc. Consider this an open invitation to post in my journal anything that places you on the lower levels of the blogger hierarchy.
* I don't even like Ani DiFranco very much. I like that song, though. I was bopping around the apartment singing it last night for some reason.
Re: Crushes, eh?
Well, you're one of my fake partners. Which is way better than a long-distance crush, I think, as it involves parental disapproval, which is always fun. I'm hopeless with short-distance crushes; I don't often have them, and my sense of self-deprecation is such that I can't maintain them for very long.
Okay...I have to tell the streetcar story I alluded to above. Because it's funny in a twisted way.
So when I was about 17 or so, I had a dream about some guy. Not that kind of dream, just a very detailed picture and the sense that he was going to be very important to me one day. Didn't look like anyone in my life then or now. And I'd kind of forgotten about it, except that on the streetcar today, I saw a guy who, in profile, looked very much like the guy in my dream.
Then he turned and looked in my direction, and half of his face was one big scar, a la Phantom of the Opera. It was very surreal. I had this temptation to go and talk to him, but I had one of the three or so shy moments I experience per year and chickened out.
I suck that way sometimes.