Greetings from prison! Oh wait, did I say prison? I meant "my apartment," but I also meant "prison." Yes, the past couple of months have sure been a real treat living here. Not that I do much living in this place... I avoid it whenever and however I can. So that makes sense, right? Pay for a place you hate? Okay, sure, sounds smart. But hold on! I am going to do something about this! I refuse to put up with crappy situations if I don't have to. And I don't have to. It has taken me three decades and two years to realize that I actually might have a say in my life. I might actually have a voice if I just flex those vocal chords once in awhile. (Do you flex your vocal chords in order to speak? And are they actual cords? Someone get me an encyclopedia that is in the form of Wikipedia!)
Enough about my apartment! (Just know that I will pretend I am in a palace until I move out and that, yes, I will move out and that, yes, I will be okay and that, yes, they are actual cords with tassels on the end of them.) More about random "shit" that is on my "mind," such as how I abuse and "misuse" quotation "marks."
I listened to John Cage last night and boy oh boy he saved my soul. Turns out I like listening to weird crap! And in no way is it crap, it is genius. And is it weird or is it that we have been conditioned to think that what Cage does is weird? Chew on that for a second. But don't chew on it too long. Spit it out. Now.
Lately I've been saying "fugg it" to going to the rec center during my break at work (I have an odd schedule, it isn't worth it to explain it). It has been a ginormous relief to not be rushed. I now run errands, sometimes, and get coffee, always. I read, I BLOG, I do my dishes. And then I go back to work, do whatever it is I do at work, and then after -- with all the time in the world/two hours -- I go to the rec center. I do not exercise for two hours, mind you, but I do spend two hours there because as you may already know, my apartment is a prison and I try to find ways to not be there. Kill time. Hang out in a public locker room with strangers.
Speaking of public things, I fully support public schools. Go to hell, private schools. I have my reasons for saying that! Reasons. Plural. Multiple reasons. The last thing I want (aside from spending time in my apartment) is to go into detail right now as to why I hate private schools, but just know that I do. I might feel the urge to explain my strong emotions at a later time, but now is not the time.
TIME! What is it good for? Kill it in a locker room, I say. A warm, bright locker room with little to no techno music and weed upstairs.
Time to pretend I'm a valued employee now. Kiss/hug (but don't touch me).