It seems as if this blog isn't as secluded/private as I had hoped.
Who am I kidding. The only people who want privacy don't use the internet.
I hope I never meet anyone who doesn't use the internet. Similarly, I hope I meet Al Gore.
---
Currently convincing myself: that I don't need an iPhone
Currently convincing you: that you need an iPhone (the stock is plummeting)
---
Radiohead. Radiohead. Radiohead. Radiohead.
---
From this day forward I will put all my energy into inventing something that makes something easier. I am not an engineer, I can't invent anything complex or technical. However, I am a humanitarian, so I just need to invent something that humanitizes (didn't Dr. K already do that?) anyway, that's what I need to do!
---
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s son speaking at his father's funeral,
"Well, Dad's with God now."
*crowd ROFLs*
---
(roll-fluh-s): rolling on the floor laughing :-)
---
I think the question I constantly ask myself is not am I the person I wish to be, but am I the person I dreamed of being when I was 16? Does that seem naive? To think that there would be anyway that my current living arrangement/goals/desires would be intact for that long? yes. damnit. I think I was much more ideological and artistic when I was 16...no, 17.
---
hey there delilah, ...this song sucks.
so does this blogish
6.26.2007
6.07.2007
06.07.07
3 months and Kelly Clarkson is still sober
joy.
3 days and Paris Hilton is out of jail
justice.
----------
other points of interest:
blood in my kleenex didn't hurt,
but the medication gives me heartburn.
a painless serious problem
or a seriously painful everyday problem?
----------
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.photo.gif
Working 9-5 is not fun. I'm to tired to do anything before work. I'm to tired to do anything after work. All I do at work is work. Geez; they weren't kidding about how awesome college is.
I think this is something my father has struggled with. Probably your father to, and his father, and my father's father- but his father was probably okay because life was easy back then...right?
Do you work so you can do what you love? Or love your work? I would love your work. Loooove your work. So basically, make yourself love being a financial analyst and you are A-OK.
I love being a movie voice and drawing editorial cartoons. Find that in the classifieds.
joy.
3 days and Paris Hilton is out of jail
justice.
----------
other points of interest:
blood in my kleenex didn't hurt,
but the medication gives me heartburn.
a painless serious problem
or a seriously painful everyday problem?
----------
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.photo.gif
Working 9-5 is not fun. I'm to tired to do anything before work. I'm to tired to do anything after work. All I do at work is work. Geez; they weren't kidding about how awesome college is.
I think this is something my father has struggled with. Probably your father to, and his father, and my father's father- but his father was probably okay because life was easy back then...right?
Do you work so you can do what you love? Or love your work? I would love your work. Loooove your work. So basically, make yourself love being a financial analyst and you are A-OK.
I love being a movie voice and drawing editorial cartoons. Find that in the classifieds.
6.04.2007
06.05.07
I like to keep relationships with people from my past. Ideally, I would remain good friends with everyone I encounter, and I would never have a problem drinking a beer with them or offering them any kind of assistance. That would be nice. However, it could come to be troublesome if too many people were taking advantage of my hospitality. Yeah, take that nice guy with a ton of great friendships- just wait until they take advantage of you.
Barack Obama.
a brunette who enjoys wilco.
i would vote for these two things. but only these two things.
and now, e e cummings (it's hard to believe he wrote this in the 1920s)
------------------------------------------
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol's farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who'd given my Unde Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
Barack Obama.
a brunette who enjoys wilco.
i would vote for these two things. but only these two things.
and now, e e cummings (it's hard to believe he wrote this in the 1920s)
------------------------------------------
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol's farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who'd given my Unde Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
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