Don't think I'm fucking with you when I say that this was a long and difficult patch of days and I am currently exhausted. Because I wouldn't be fucking with you, because it is the truth.First off, this guy from the Internet is coming to see me. Not anyone I've mentioned yet, and he's a nice guy and isn't going to try anything, but it's still stressing me out because I think I kind of like him but he has a girlfriend and is seven years older than me. I'm not stupid and I don't take these things with zero consideration, so I'm losing sleep. This causes me to snap at all around me, be irritable and stay up hours past my bedtime, writing trite as hell shit and burning the twenty dollars worth of candles I bought on impulse.
And I'm working more, which is good, the hours are great, but I'm spacing out for reasons unknown and I've been written up twice now for missing credit slips and cash over five bucks. My managers are really great and I'm not getting any shit about it but it's just stressing me out, and I try to be more focused but I can't, it's retail and if I'm focused for eight hours I'm ready to paint the walls with the blood of the innocent. I have dirt allergies and I'm tired and everyone is over here playing Warcraft and my computer can't handle Warcraft and I'd probably just suck at it anyway. And then I just get mad at myself for pouting and it all starts again.
But yeah, I'm writing a shitstain of a story. And what's worse, I like it. I fear I'm going to have to venture into some sort of insanity before I can turn out anything better. There are no more allergy pills in the house. Jon Stewart was fantastic in The Faculty.
