Sorry. -Rachel

Life as a Deadbeat

October 31, 2009
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Last time I posted something it was the beginning of June, which in fact, was the last time I did anything worthwhile. With all of my ambitions currently shattered I have nothing better to do but spend all of my time with my boyfriend-thing. Which makes me feel, well, pathetic, and guilty since I’m typing this as he lays here next to me sleeping. Gotta love morning breath. We are very, very, hungover.

At least the sun is shinning. It’s been the wettest October since 1837 in St. Louis (no kiddin HA)

When I don’t write something for a while it’s like calling an old friend for the “How’s life?” conversation. I think I go about things the same way, reminiscing about the last time we talked, “oh how things have changed! oh how time flies!”, what’s happening so far today annnd the finally the weather. Then you realize you can’t bull shit your good ol friend any longer and you just have to tell them what’s really going on even though you are ashamed you didn’t have anything better to say about your life because when the how’s life question is asked the second time the answer changes from “fine” to a mental breakdown, hands touch your face, rubbing your forehead, fisting your eyes like a baby, “Life sucks.”

I didn’t go to California. I hate to say this but I blame mom. In the couple of weeks when I was trying to lock in my plans she stopped eating, sleeping, and was really starting to act cuckoo. I thought she would die if I left. I wussed out and couldn’t leave her, I’m sure if I had gone I would have called her everyday, sent her pictures, and assured her I was fine until she eventually came to terms with me being away. I’m sure she would have gotten over it rather quickly. I don’t spend much time thinking about it but once every other day the sentence “You Should Have Went.” drifts down like the leaves from autumn trees. It sits on a brown leaf, and stares at me on the way down until it settles in the mud of my mind. Haha It’s like that fucking money on the Geico commercials, with the fuckin googely eyes.

I also quit both of my jobs, due to the fact they both sucked and I guess I’m too good for both of them. I’m broke.

I enrolled for 3 classes this semester. Fitness center, figure drawing, and photography. Failed, failing, failing. Like I said things are not so good.

One upside though: my previously mentioned boyfriend-thing. I say boyfriend-thing opposed to just boyfriend alone, no ‘thing’ suffix because well, I think with the amount of time we spend together we might as well be uh, in that type of relationship, but there’s a ‘thing’.

Like his wife he is fighting with on the phone right now.

Will edit later, but for sake of having something posted, I’m publishing this now.


“that’s not my name”

April 21, 2009
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mood – pissed off typical

thoughts – I’m trying to write a paper and do homework for what? I don’t have any idea. Working this hard and stressing out about something like my english 104 class feels like a waste of time. I have no motivation to go to college when it’s obviously meaningless.

I was talking to my dear friend maggot about although her brother is smart he is a shit head and can’t stay in high school. I thought about what getting a diploma and degree means.  The aroma of late night steak burgers in the middle of my home town puts your accomplishments under a sick light of realism. By getting a high school degree Chris (her brother) would have established he could bend himself to the rules and regulations of the humiliating, and harsh world of secondary schooling.  Instead he chooses to do something that makes him happy, which is to say, pimping his ride.  He’s a capable person, he will get a job, it won’t be a career, he might regret not finishing high school, but he’s not going to die,  he’s not going to suffer his entire life. He’s not going to suffer at all probably. It’s so hard to please the rest of the world. If he’s happy leave him alone.

Leave me alone. I don’t want to be anonymously assigned something, that will essentially rank my intelligence. Lets just say I’m stupid and leave it at that.

thoughts – I’m so sick of this environment. It’s frighteningly typical and so many people are moving in and out performing typical tasks and doing saying sleeping reading feeling typical. The cement walls of this massive library, as a person like me should typically feel,  is like a jail cell. I need a bailout.

coping – accepting this feeling of loathing is probably PMS, day dreaming about writing a book about my bedroom/life revamp

result – staring at the computer, with no progress towards finishing this paper


About author

Born and raised in St. Louis, I hate eating at chain restaurants and enjoy drinking beer. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, if you have any suggestions please let me know. Thanks.

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