so i finished dirty sexy money in like two days. fuck. well it did have only like ten episodes. fuck.

well i started on chuck and damn y so fine. Y. Y. Y.

omg between Josh, Lee, and Mr Levi there I HAVE NO HORMONES LEFT. NONE. it doesn't help that chuck ttly reminds me of my piemaker bb. I refrained from making a dirty "he can make my pie anytime" joke. the vatican does not approve.

anyway my habit of randomly searching keywords and clicking on blogs has resulted in my discovery of this college boy in chicago who sounds altogether far too much like me for my own comfort, although it does give me comfort knowing that someone halfway across the world is sharing my brainwaves. He stopped his blog in like 2006 though. God maybe he died or something. I'll never know. Both blogs stop at 2006. I miss him. I wish he would post and tell me he forgot about his blogs because he's too damn happy to give a fuck about blogging. Because he doesn't need it anymore. I wish he would. Because I still need his blogging.

I'm having far too much of a Holden Caulfield moment year. I feel like everyone around me is a big fucking phony. They either don't really care about me because studies are far more important, or write because it makes them feel self-important, or just have better things to do in general. I resent these people, because I wish I were just like them.

All their writing sounds the same. I may have lost my passion for it, either that or it's meandering somewhere between pretentious second-person oneshots oh I'm sorry, short stories and the descriptions of some place which has nothing to do with anything, because it's not a place that matters, but what goes on in the place. A place has nothing if you dedicate two lines to a character, and then proceed to wax lyrical about the still twilight.

FUCK THIS.

Goddamn.

I can get through this week I can get through this week I CAN GET THROUGH THIS WEEK.

Everybody's too busy giving a fuck about themselves.

Well too bad for me, giving a fuck about just about everything.