how does that work?

ah well fuck it.

this was written at work. on the boringest day of my life.

hee.

.................................................

im in a bad mood. cynical and being slightly stalked by the throbbing pain of a persistant headache. three days, eh dear? well throb away. im a strong one. ill fight ya. i just realized how much i take feeling ok for granted. this'll do it to me i guess. i repeat. fuck it. i might be thinking too much here. too many minutes between calls and too many old haunts to re-explore. i feel the black slipping from me to everyone else. ugh, do you see how easy it is to slip into bad goth poetry writing? ive been working hard here people. in the plastic over sized toy that is my life. with its dull edges and child safe colors. but the years have been hard, and the faded tired look it has now has me worried. its at the point where nicks and missing crucial pieces are becoming a bit problematic. maybe time to replace? i almost like the familiar roughness the plastic has taken on, and the fact that i know every inch of it, but would i rather have the inexplicable joy of something new to feel up and wander around? [i felted her up good har har, aaahhh text twist] you always love the old things you have lying around. their aesthetic value and whatnot. but the pressure to evolve and fix has me ... well ... pressured. hah. its inevitable that one day i take the old girl in and get a new reformed version, one with all the provervial bells and whistles. [sad that im talking about my whole life like its a fisher price just my size kitchen.] ay. balls to the way of the world. she'll do for now. so just stop it stephanie. things are too temporary now a days. but we know better dont we. hmm.
the system at work is down right now. everywhere in the US people are sobbing and getting all chaotic from their inability to book a fucking hotel room so they can come and get drunk, come and gamble, come and leave the kids at home to stumble up to the formentioned room to fuck like they used to back in high school. unabashed and worry free, lighter pockets and a tingle in their heads. i guess in a way i can understand. i made it sound real fun just now. inside i laugh cause im bitter. outside i write this cause im bored.
so enjoy gentle readers. [heh]
but really a downed system or "temporary system upgrade", whichever you prefer, isnt so bad. you can pretend your cubicle is a fort and that the people around you are on fire. kinda like what im doing right now.
my dream last night was so strange. i cant possibly fit it all here so in light of my baddish list-y mood, some points:
-the new stars wars movie, with me behind the man, behind the scenes, behind the wheel.
-us frantically trying to ste up a shoot. a borrowed mansion and testy parents are our obstacles and a dusty parlor smell everywhere.
-hay and dirt all over, and me the useless girl with a broom.
-the feast. the horrible colors of the food and the bones coming out of the meat like reaching arms, with their cartilage fireworks at the end. me biting one and finally seeing the maggott inching toward me, as i gag and freak i see the colors of it change to brilliant blue and watch as spikes grow fom its body.
-him. walking me through the park. us laughing. me feeling the air and smelling his cologne. flashes of sex, long long cloves and the final kiss before i woke up.

what the hell eh? where do these things come from. every REM session i remember. something. your not supposed to. your supposed to wake up like the people in the commercial and stretch and run out of bed to meet the world halfway. right. i guess their why i have bags under my eyes and a sick sense of humor. my dreams you know.

[please no food items and no non-spillproof containers on the floor]
[technically thats a step one]

oh the zombie mind fucking horror. i cant wait to get home and "start my day".
i think i may be waning on this job. maybe i need uber hours to boost my morale. yep. thats what it is. i need less me time and more money makin time. w00t.

[headset button - login button - id# - auto in]
[do it damn you]

bad mood are you still there? what good are you to me? why are you here? how will you be helping me through my day whern your so busy biting at me and scratching the chalkboard ive hidden in the attic in my mind. i didnt know you go up there. curious bastard.

sometimes i just dont know about me. i seem to be a lost cause one moment, and the next the smiling face among millions following the same facade/dream/pounding brainwash. hopeful and stupid. thats me sometimes. sometimes.

speaking of which.

sometimes:
-i find myself alone. and i can hardly bear it.
-i agree to stay at work two extra hours. and instantly regret it.
-i think about sex too much. [meh its not THAT bad i guess]
-i have so many ideas but when faced with a blank page i imitate it rather than fill it.
-i wish i had an everlasting cigarette [like the gobstopper]. and that it was stitched to my lips.
-i want it to rain for real.
-i want someone to ask me if i ve ever been in a mud fight.
-i wish i was in florida. on that beach. during red tide. with a trashbag.
-i wish i had an image to ride.

i wonder why i blog so much. is it because i never really feel safe just talking?
[or that i have no faith in my words]

shhh. ive got my head phones on. im wily like that. when are we going to be free? no calls now but stragglers unprepared for the bad news.

i am going to buuuurn out everyone says. my confidence is fucking flying.

yes its long. but you read it didnt you.

hmm.