Many a road I've been walkin on....

This song haunts my dreams... I am officially obsessed. I'm not sure if its the melody, the lyrics, or his voice. Whatever it is, it. is. good.

Am I boring you yet?

I am quite possibly the worst of all Bloggers ever. I'm not sure why I have such a hard time keeping up with the bloggaging of thoughts. Perhaps its because I have nothing amazing and interesting to report. That statement makes me depressed. I want ridiculous things in my life. Things that make everyone jealous and wish they were as eccentric and suave as I am. But that is not the situation at all. I am completely generic. I live in San Diego. I have Brown hair and two Cats. I have a cookie cutter 1 bedroom apartment and with crappy neighbors and a mold problem.

I should be living in Morrocco and collecting spices for my spice rack, and belly dancing for spare change in order to purchase more silk tapestries in which to elborately decorate my home in. I should be free diving with Great White Sharks in Austrailia, showing off my scars to the locals and fascinating them with stories of my near death experiences. Instead, I am tapping away at a computer, sitting on the couch, in fancy clothing because I just had an interview for yet another boring desk job.

Anyhow, I'm hoping 2011 makes a bigger impact than 2010 did. Its been a strange year and I'm ready for it to be gone. I am still searching for something more in my life... I'm not sure what that is yet exactly. I'll be SURE to blog about it when I figure it out.

No Dawn, No day... I'm always in this twilight

Florence just gets it.... I listen multiple times a day, a meditation of sorts.

Nothin'

This is my last chance for a blog posting occuring in August. Not that that matters really, August has been a pretty mundane month with the exception of these really great broiled oysters I had about two weeks ago. But seriously, those oysters were good. I could have eaten 800 of those suckers, probably ending in vomit and tears, but would have been worth the story. I guess I really just like seafood.

I have decided that since this month has mostly consisted of normal routine things such as losing ones job, laying out in the sun, eating good food (i.e. the oysters), spending money I don't have, and filling up my gas tank way too much, that this entry will be about.... Nothing.

First off, Nothing is exactly what it sounds like. Not Anything, or, No Single Thing. I just did a bit of research regarding the definition be there any doubt surrounding my previous statement. I feel like there are a lot of Nothings to be had. Nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. Nothing but trouble. Nothing on your plate. Nothing but net. and my personal favorite, That red bump on your private areas is Nothing but an ingrown hair.

When it comes to "You can't get something for nothing", I beg to differ. I have gotten a few somethings for nothing. Probably only because I have two large mounds of relatively perky fatty tissue growing off my chest that gets smushed together when I wear lowcut shirts. I have found that this phenomena only works for the female species however. Men with lowcut shirts and chesty fat mounds (a.k.a bitch tits) have a 99% chance of NEVER getting something for nothing. They usually have to pay for it.

I'm actually surprised that Nothing has turned out to be such a broad topic on which to base ones bloggage. Google just told me there are 542,000,000 cases of Nothing on the internet. Now that is really something. When I began my exploration into Nothing , I really didnt realize how big Nothing had gotten and how much Nothing is out there. People are even writing songs about Nothing. Sineade.

I have always had a slight distaste for Sineade O'conner. Not her music. Just her. I think its the whole shaved head thing. I know its all about rebelling and breaking the boundaries of femininity but I still think its a bit awkward and a lot unattractive. Anyways, the best part of Sineade's bald head is that it really has nothing at all to do with all this talk of Nothing. Except for the fact that there is Nothing long and shiny growing from her head that can easily be pulled back in a ponytail.

I will still give So'C props for writing my favorite Nothing song.

Life on Repeat

I have grown weary. I am losing track of days because they are all the same. Slowly melting into a pool of mundane nothingness. Today is Friday, and I should be happy. I am not. I am tired. My body has become immune to the effects of caffeine and everyday has become a struggle to stay awake.

I should be grateful. I have a steady paycheck in a shitty economy and I don't work at McDonalds. I am not the girl who makes my sandwiches at lunch who has a small shrunken "claw" in place of a fully functioning hand. It could be worse.

I am grateful, I really am. I have two hands. I have things. Good things.

I just wish that I could enjoy the 40hrs a week I spend sitting in front of a computer. Instead I find myself sitting at a shitty desk everyday, staring blankly at a computer. I dont even need to use my brain to complete my work. Instead I daydream while taping away at the keyboard.

My desk is filled with other peoples junk. Random dusty staplers sitting on the right corner. I wonder if they even have staples in them. Some sort of beer part has been sitting here since I first started. A giant metal rack to my right... filled with cords, random electronics.... carelessly strew onto the shelves. Crooked shitty cubicle walls seperating my desk from the "kitchen."

It almost makes me laugh to think this is my first office job experience.

Things that I can see without moving from my desk...because making lists makes me feel important:


1. Jack Daniels Bar Stool ( I work at a beverage company, it almost makes sense that its sitting right next to my desk... in the middle of the office.)

2. A map of the United States.

3. A small mug, with a cozy scene of small Italian men drinking beer in a pub. One is grabbing a womans ass. Of course she is the one serving food.

4. A book of matches and one AA battery. Located inside my desk, they are not mine.

5. A can of Hormel Turkey Chili.

6. A Tiki Bar.

7. A Bald Guy.

8. A picture of two fighting monkeys.

9. Coupons to El Pollo Loco.

10. Ms. Butterworth.

Magic and Fireworks

I should be sleeping but cannot stop thinking....
There are so many things jumbled up in this little mind o' mine.

The 4th of July... it was a good one. Thinking about it makes me smile. The few blurred moments I can remember, I will try not to forget those too. I saw no fireworks that day, but I'm sure I felt some. On the other hand, it could have been the vodka.

There was a boy... in green. and sunglasses. He was perfect in every aspect... except that he was from West Virginia. He bought me a hotdog and we danced.

Booze was spilt. Friends slipped and crashed into the concrete dance floor. Tears were trickled over lost loves. Too tiny bikinis were worn. and so were fuzzy footie pajamas covered in baby ducks. Needless to say, it was my kind of day. The only thing missing was the sun.

Eyes blinked, the weekend magic was gone. Goodbyes were said. Kisses were given. Airplanes departed.

All thats left are the movie clips flashing on the backs of my eyelids.

Its dark now and I lost my camera.

Creamed Corn

I am not a Blogger. And this is not my first Blog.

Lately, I've found myself thinking about Age. Like... Alot. I recently turned 28, which is by no means "Old." In fact, most people seem to put me at around 23... MAYBE 24. But definitely 23. Of course this initially pleases me, because what woman doesn't love to hear that youth isn't running out on her quite yet. However, there is some small underlying part of me, deep deep down, that is a little bothered by this. Perhaps its because I am fully aware that I will never actually be 23 again. That time has passed. I am 28 and I no longer live in a worry free world. I am working on being okay with that.

OLD AGE, lately this is more of what I find my self reflecting over... rather than years past. I have this strange fascination with growing older. I am so curious about the elderly community. I am pretty sure the fact that my upstairs neighbors are living relics is what initially piqued my interest on this subject. I have only met the older male occupant... his name is Harold. I couldn't have been more pleased.

Since then their lifestyle has really got me wondering and I've come to a few personal conclusions on the complexities of old age.

Fact 1: Old people have amazing names. It's required. Both of my grandmothers are the perfect example to this rule. Wanda Mae and Nola??? Those names don't even exist anymore. I've come to the conclusion that it will be necessary to change mine when I reach a certain age. Megan just won't cut it.

Fact 2: Upstairs neighbors displaying shrunken frail physiques does ensure a peaceful and quiet living environment for unfortunate downstairs occupant. Apparently knitting potholders and playing solitare causes more of a ruckus than previously assumed.

Fact 3: All elderly folk have an affinity for creamed corn and Matlock reruns.

Fact 4: Birds. Once you have reached a certain age, you become strangely intrigued and excited by their existance. Owls in particular. Sometimes you will collect feathers.

Fact 5: Synthetic fabrics will be you're new best friend. Your energetically colored jogging suits will last an eternity carrying your legacy on with them.

Fact 6: Dinner will be rescheduled to 4 p.m. and bedtime to 8 p.m. No one knows why. I suspect this is in direct correlation with peak bird watching hours, which are dusk and dawn.

Fact 7: Everyday is a holiday. This means extra servings of creamed corn and a good poop.

Fact 8: You are Old. The best excuse in the book. Do as you please and when in doubt... just "forget" where you are and what your name is.

Fact 9: There was a dog and BINGO was his name-o.

Fact 10: This is the end. Literally.