isn’t it bliss, don’t you approve?

nothing worth writing about is going on right now, except that i make a great cake delivery girl, and that this made me cry.

peter pan and wendy

is a really nice book, sweet and all and complete with charming watercolour sketches of fairies and jolly little boys and flying children. the quintessential bedtime book. here’s a sample:

And that was the first of many joyous nights they had with Wendy. By and by she tucked them up in the great bed in the home under the trees, but she herself slept that night in the little house (that the Lost Boys built for her), and Peter kept watch outside with a drawn sword, for the pirates could be heard carousing far away and the wolves were on the prowl. The little house looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blinds, and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Peter standing on guard. After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy.

like i said, the perfect bedtime book for little children.

twenty bites. on each leg.

the mosquitoes are killing me. i wouldnt mind so much if they were killing everyone else too, but noo they choose to lurk under only my table and bite the living hell out of my legs. even when my sister sits at my table they happily ignore her juicy blood-filled legs and stake out a nice spot in which to await my return. i have SCARS, dammit. and i dont even scratch them! they turn into little huge brown spots on their own. ARGH. whine. whinewhine.

i know all this whining must be getting tiresome, but dammit i am sick of getting bitten. so i will whine here, and be boring and childish and irritating here.

i think ive been watching too much greys anatomy. im whining.

and i will also buy myself nice thick leggings and wear them everywhere.

two is the beginning of the end.

shit i did pretty well. just when i’d finally made up my mind to LEAVE, goddammit.

how! how! panic! indecision! can i take another three years of crap? i dont even want to be a journalist any more! but do i want to be a pharmacist? oh GODS why didnt i prepare for the dentistry interview. WHY DID I TELL THEM I FLOSS EVERY DAY HUH. WHY. OR WHY DIDNT I ACCEPT THE OTHER COURSE LAST YEAR. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME.

i almost wish i’d failed everything so i’d feel better about leaving. but then again seeing all those nice letters is pretty gratifying, ha i still rock!