Hysteria.

It's been a long time since I've felt any desire to write anything. Anything. It's funny, how the more I have to write about,the less I feel like writing about it. My solution, I'm going to try to take more pictures.

Today was a glorious day off. Off from everything, almost. I was supposed to meet my boss at the store at an unspecified time so that I could babysit her kid, but that never happened and I spent most of the day waiting for her to call. Bah. However, I reorganized my art supplies. I'm hoping that this reorganization will involve less art supplies being on the floor, and more being put away. Possibly, more being used as well. I still have not tried my silk screen kit, so maybe that will be a fun Sunday project.

I should have worn my pretty black dress that I've been longing to wear today. It was really warm, and even though I was cleaning, it would have made me really happy to wear.

I almost went kite flying. I saw some kids flying a kite too, and I am very enthusiastic about my future out door activities.

Riding my bike, the crappy awesome one, not the hardcore downhill one, makes me feel like a fancy lady from the first half of the 20th century.

I have not seen my girlfriend in a while. Wednesday when she dropped me off at work and everything seemed awesome, even though it's a bad news week. [An aunt has cancer, and my father is losing his job once again.] And then nothing, and I'm not being paranoid, because life would suck if I were, but I left her a message last night, and being that I have no experience, I'm not sure how aloof I should be in such a situation. It's all really silly, and I'm not really up for the whole mind games relationship thing. All I really know, is if it's true,[which I don't think is possible] that boys think about sex on average, more than girls, boys must be thinking about it literally all the time. I do worry though when my mother asks where she is, what she's been up too.

I am trying to plan a kick ass birthday party, I am quite excited about it. I think that 19 will be the new 17, and that I will look back upon it with fond memories. Here's hoping.

Reading Michelle Tea fiction, Rose of No Mans Land, is a bit like reading James Frey memoirs. In that,I keep forgetting that it is in fact not a memoir and purely fiction, even though it reads exactly the same as all of her other books, especially Chelsea Whistle. I'm waiting for the girl on girl action to start while they share cigarettes in the dumpster behind the white trash mall. We'll see.

I have to work tomorrow. Work, on Saturday, has become painstakingly mind numbing. There is usually and hour or two of absolute insanity, we're talking demanding insolent customers who whip themselves into such a put out hysteria that we are forced to toss their change at them while they call the manager to complain. Tomorrow should be interesting since the girl I'm working with is notoriously rude, and I'm also working with the manager, who somehow has it in her head that she will not help customers, but rather she will do the ordering for the store. Oh boy. Tomorrow shall be a treat indeed.

So, I'm off to devour Michelle Tea fiction and attempt feebly to put the whole girlfriend issue out of my mind. Today it was fabulous outside, and there's only more to come.

Sunday is easter, which means chocolate and jelly beans, and bunnies.