My house is a shambles. I can't find anything in this mess. I don't feel like practicing my music, I don't feel like doodling the president into yet another dumb ass political cartoon that'll make me feel paranoid, watched, and flat out under surveillance by tall, thin men in suits wearing black rimmed sunglasses.
I want to take in a movie, but I know I'll feel that I've wasted the afternoon. I want to read my books and my news clippings, but I read so slow, I know I'll regret wasting the day doing that when I wake up from what was supposed to be a short 5-minute snooze.
How on earth am I supposed to handle the peek-a-boo bug? My little flickr image sources don't appear on the screen when using Internet Explorer. I don't know enough code to fix the problem internally, so I'm thinking of trying to use tags to prompt readers to click to view image type of thing.
One of the new employees started last week. I like her [enami], and I can't get over the resemblance she has to somebody in my past dating back to the early 80's. I don't know what to make of it, but I feel because she resemble "Silvia" so much, if I stick close enough to her, eventually our paths will cross with that of Ana's. So, when I talk to a co-worker about this, she tells me I'm ¶sycho. This wouldn't bother me at all, but considering she's had some formal training in ¶sychology, I'm going to stop short when I catch myself telling her my problems. You know that that means, faithful readers? It means this blog will be getting a lot more personal. Damn all that results from the precarious readership of those whom this may be about, but I'm game if you are… after all, I'm only observing my freedom to express myself. And you really should only be conserned if you make the pages of one of my perzine issues in future.
