Taking a giant leap. Quitting my comfy cozy 9 to 5er to go back to a salon and start from scratch. Apparently I really want my license to cut hair. Who knew? I mean I've always known I loved it. From the time the neighborhood girls were sneaking into my house to have me put some god awful shade of pink or green or purple in there hair.

I'd have bleach all over the walls and black box dye stains all over my mothers tub. I would sit there for hours with her staring at me as I scrubbed with ajax as my punishment.

No money left.

I’m sitting here in my skirt and high heels, running liner piling up in the oversized pores below my eyes, wondering what the hell the point is.

This outfit is completely non-functional. I especially realized this while tripping over an Ethernet cable on my way to the ware house. Now granted I do work in the front office, where I’m visible and need to look appropriate and blasé blasé blasé.

Wish I could be bag lady chic all the time. But my thighs touch when I walk so that goal is unobtainable.

A wonderful gourmet lunch today of a Macintosh apple, half a sandwich baggy full of “OG” goldfish, (“OG” stand for original gangsta too all of you non hip people out there), a lukewarm cup of coffee, some filtered water, and a bottle of Excedrin. Oh, and my last three American Spirits.

Can one force themselves to enjoy black coffee? Or is that something that can’t be trained. Personally if it isn’t loaded with cream, sugar, or those international delight creamers (mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm), I can’t drink it.

Must stop Ebay-ing. No money left. But I bought that pretty necklace!

Whatever douches

So maybe I didn’t do things the conventional way. And maybe I fell out of the esoteric lifestyle of my peers in my youth. But somehow I found myself here. An art school drop out in the bowels of Pennsylvania, surrounded by other 20 somethings who’s parents could afford to send them to college even if they did fuck up a few times.

My story is not unique. There were drugs and booze and weight gain somewhere along the road there were failed attempts at jobs and boyfriends and religions and eating disorders that just kind of landed me somewhere in mediocrity.

Now no no! Don’t go it’s not all a sob story, I swear its not all that bad. I have a job. It’s a decent job answering phones in an unfamiliar industry, but it pays the bills, and lets me take a few classes at a community college where I get decent grades and the kids like me. I have an amazing boyfriend. Who yes, is a working artist, I can’t seem to get away from those. We have an apartment. We love each other and we keep things working, even when it sucks.

But outlets are fun. So I’m gonna go back to blogging for a while. About the random shit I find, the random people in my life and maybe make a few virtual friends the hard wat. See what the hell it brings. More later.