my peeps The Boys
my peeps The Girls
Tristan Roy blue eyes,
Stuff and Nonsense
You LOVE Me THIS much
Go Fug Yourself
the pretty pictures
the professionals blog
shameless self promotion
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it's alright, I know it's right : Ok. I'm back. Made it through another long drive back here after a long day of being everyone's favourite (you're a girl?) tech specialist. Oh don't get me wrong, I feel the love and all. Now if only that made the fear that's churning in my belly go away. Mostly I'm afraid that bad things are looming on the horizon. I guess I'm worried that things are going too well and that there is no way it can keep up that way. It's just because previously things never went that well for long before. It's a theme around many blogs this day, but I'm worried that I'm holding onto things form the past and they may be the defeat of my upward goodness. I'm my own worst enemy. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend. My own worst frenemie?
I'm procrastinating. Sure I am. There's nothing else for me to do really. Until I know what's what and all, I have no real way to decide what to do with what and all that. Yea it's the riddle of the what. Hee hee. I won't really have time to post anything in depth or delightful or even interesting til Monday. I don't have enough hours in the day or a laptop with it's own built in wifi server so I can be online all the way from here to work and back. If I could do that you'd knw I'd be rich, everyone would be paying me for the way to be online everywhere and anywhere they are. Aah the dream.
I'm contemplating getting one of those donate money to me accounts, thought I feel bad because I'm not that bad off. If I could get someone to give me 50 grand I could thumb my nose at them student loans collectors and then I'd be laughing and scratching all the way to my only went bankrupt oce death. As it is I'm worried now that I'll be scrimping and saving my way to the bankrupt twice and just a loser death. I have a lot of grandly overblown fears. It's never that bad, but I think all my melodrama gets filtered into money worries and that's why I'm so cool about relationships. I have no need to get all Scarlet O'Hara (did I spell that right?) over the guy and what's going on. I do that all over my wallet and how thin and unused it is so I have nothing left over for the man - unless he's adding to said thinness and unused ness. Then the melodrama abounds, I'm sure.
I could win an oscar for money melodrama. I think it's a being poor by product. I feel that it's awfult to live with so little. I've got the material sickness to some degree but I've also got the want something better fever and a slight touch of the meaning of life shakes mixed in. At the end of the dead I don't want my headstone to read Amber 1971-whenever, whatever. I'm gonna be someone, eventually. It's taking a while but all I can say is, I'm working on it a weeee bit at a time.
Keep blogging. ghost writer Ambrrrr at 7:01 PM
Tristan Roy blue eyes,
blue eyes, crooked teeth, intellectual, goofball, slacker, socialist.