bleh

Mar. 24th, 2005 11:03 pm
corellianrogue: (Default)
Stupid thing, stealing entries...grrrr.

Anyway. I keep thinking about how boring my life is sometimes. Like this week, for instance. Don't really have much to do. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but still. But starting next week, I have a test and a quiz and all kinds of other stuff, bleh. I don't want to have to do stuff. I'd rather be bored. But it got me thinking, life comes in chunks of activity with long spans of boredom. No, really, think about it. It's a...what do they call those kinds of patterns? Like how you can find the same repeating pattern of molecules in a single grain of granite as in the whole mountain or something like that. But, like, in a day, you generally have a quiet time in the morning, followed by insane busy-ness for a couple hours, however long at work, followed by more boredom in the afternoon and evening. Adjust to fit your work/sleep schedule and this is the general pattern. Expand this to a year. Starting out, the year is pretty quiet, with a large amount of boredom broken only by Easter/Spring Equinox/whatever you may celebrate. Then comes the summer, with more boredom, but generally at least a little more interesting, followed by insane busy-ness starting in late October on through the major holidays, ending with a slow down to the New Year. Again, adjust for your own schedule. Finally, look at an entire lifetime. You're born and that's basically the highlight of about the first 15+ years of your existence, punctuated by brief periods of activity centered around birthdays, holidays, or licenses, whatever. Then, WHAMMO! you hit your late teens/early twenties and life explodes with- say it with me- insane busy-ness. There's graduating, college, moving out, jobs, getting money, spending money, bills and payments and taxes, and runrunrunmakeitintheworldbyyourself. That's not even including if you decide to get married and have kids. That's just even more stuff. Then, you hit your 30s, and life slows down again, unless of course, you decided to have kids above, but even that isn't quite bad yet. Kids won't kick in until a good couple decades after they're born, so you should have a few years of boredom in there at least. Then, if you're lucky, you get to see the whole teens/twenties crises again only from the other side. yay. But then, another long stretch of boredom, punctuated only by a short stretch of activity surrounding retirement, or lack thereof if you decided to put kids off until later, and then a good 20-40 years of boredom, much like that of childhood except this time without all the birthdays/holidays/licenses to liven things up. Lucky us, huh? Really got something to look forward to.

In other news, I believe I may be slowly losing my mind to the stress. Or not so slowly, depending on who you talk to. I've been speaking in random accents recently, mostly southern, but occasionally reverting to the Eastern European one I did for NT. It's disconcerting. And I just had to look up how to spell 'celebrate' and I tried to spell of 'uf.' That's almost, but not quite, as bad as spelling it 'ove' which I have seen but never done myself. I will admit I was a party to that one, sadly, but it wasn't really my fault.

I better sign off before I become completely flibbertigibbetted. Ah well, too late for that, I suppose.


PS. (Can I put a PS on a journal entry?) Is it too much to ask for people to show a little common courtesy and not smooch and whisper and make little lovey-dovey sounds all of like three feet away from me? Is that really so hard? And I swear, girl, get someone who ISN'T falling apart! It'll make life easier, I promise. That's my firm belief. Whoever you plan on spending your life with should definitely have fewer emotional/physical/economic problems than you have. Which would logically present a bit of a problem somewhere down the line, but I figure, not everyone's gonna go in for this philosophy anyway, so... But really, she seems to look for guys with the expected shelf life of raw seafood. Seriously. Gah. I know this was a pointless rant, but I have to get them in while I can, the roomie's moving out in a week. Wow, what will I do without anymore roomie rants? Ah, I'll find something.
corellianrogue: (Default)
Don't think I'm dead, anyway, but some people say ghosts are just spirits of people that don't know they're dead. Like Professor Binns in Harry Potter. So maybe I'm dead and just don't know it. I'm awfully tired enough to be dead. I've been dead to this journal for the last couple days. So maybe, this post has really been typed up by a ghost who doesn't know she's a ghost. That would be really cool. I envy all you out there reading something typed up by a ghost. If I am a ghost, though, I would definitely like to be a poltergeist, cause they're like evil without being EVIL so I would do just enough to be annoying but not enough to get them to bring in a priest. Yeah, that's a plan. You'd think the roomie would have noticed by now if I was dead, though. But she's not really all that observant sometimes, so it could have just escaped her notice, especially as I'm still hanging around and doing lj posts and such. I shall have to attempt to move something telekinetically to prove my ghostly powers to her later after she wakes up. Yeah. I'll go do that.
corellianrogue: (Default)
So much fun! We did clownning in acting class today. Hehe. Anyway, most funness was that, we're all discovering our "inner clowns" right? And everyone else is all like sweet or shy or whatever (okay, there were a few exceptions, but generally). My "inner clown" though, hehe, was not a nice clown, to put it mildly. I got to spend most of the time making fun of my improv partner. I never would have expected that frankly. I do occasionally play the straight man (or woman, as it may be) but this was a lot farther than I've ever taken it before. I was the only one like that. I was nice to let the snarkiness out that I normally just store up. I wonder what people who really know me-i.e. people who have LIVED with me- would feel if they compared their version of me to the version that the 'public' sees. I think some people might be surprised.

If there's one thing I've noticed about people, it's that they unfailingly see only what they want to see. It's why actors get typecast and why some people can never move past the age of 10 in their parents' eyes. Works both ways, of course, not always easy, though, to get people to see what YOU want to see. Ask David Copperfield.

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