I've been avoiding you.
Dodging your url when hoping to hop straight over to www.friendster.com, i'm addicted but thankfully the addiction goes in spurts; the finding and discovering, the thrills of adding a testimonal everyone will chuckle, "damn that missie is one witty cookie", the endless connections and distant relations-it's all so alluring. Plus not to mention, I have just way too much on my mind and I won't allow a blog with it's name stolen from a Verve song to be my mental trash can. I need some new material for the Therapist anyways. And time. Time, time, time, she's a little bitch; over possesive and talk about control issues, shiiittttt.
But look i'm here. I'm squeezing each muscle in my fingers to do this. I'm sacrificing the time I rather spend cuddled up on my bed with An Essay Concerning Human Understanding and Longwave playing in the background to sit here in the office and be miserable. Now tell me that's not true bloggggluuvvvv. I need an outlet and this isn't cutting it. I need my paints and my brushes and a canvas. I need a camera and a roll of black and white fuji film, the type when developed comes out all grainy. I can't write right now. Making words to make these sentences is like pulling gum from the bottom of your shoe. Ugh. But I need to create: something beautiful, something sad, something with raw emoutions dripping from it's edges, something I can keep and something I can give.
But these thoughts are too many and too disorganized for a cognitive state of mind required in documentation.
Bare with me, vuhrog. Tall tales from Baja Fresh coming soon.