Blast from the past.
Here is an ode to those wonderful and horrible years.
God I miss her.
What the hell?
I guess I wrote this the other night while I was very sleepy.
I don’t remember doing it at all, but it’s in my notebook right besides me.
“My fan spins, casting a spiral shadow across my ceiling. Its frail white light causes my walls to look barren. Its wings spin quietly, and even beneath the blast of my cooling system, I find no refuge from the hot and sticky air all around me. It is quarter to one.
(then incomprehensible scribbles)
I am moving towards the more positive end of the spectrum. Half the time I can’t stand my inability to change. The other half greatly appreciates it, causing rifts of confusion. “Identity Crisis” would be a nice way of putting it. Dare I ”
What?
Short dresses.
Short dresses & skirts are undeniably comfortable. There’s a freeing sense to them, but at the same time you don’t want to be flashing anyone, so along comes the constant vag checking. Without even thinking about it, my hand is constantly hovering over my ass to make sure nothing is popping out. I guess I could just wear some pants, but a dress is just so much easier. You don’t have to be worried about WHAT MATCHES WHAT, blah blah blah.
Thinking on it again, I suppose someone catching a glimpse of panties is less damaging than the actual vag. It’s not really any different than seeing panties on shelves in stores, except for the fact that I’m wearing them. I’m sure in other countries they don’t care as much.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, I leave for Germany in..two days. AH! My laundry is going right now, I still need a wall charger for my ipod, and I need a pair of jeans. Shit.
