So, an update. What the hell? How's my summer been, you ask? Gather round: there is much to tell.

So I start work at Ford Credit Company Oct. 4 (haha, well, that is if I pass the ol' whiz quiz--I've been off the good stuff for TWO FREAKIN' WEEKS now, drinking lots and lots of water; I know, can you believe it? I've been the biggest fucking stoner with my good buddy Jen all summer long and now I can only sit and stare longingly at that delicious smoke wafting past my face--although we did go to Freaky's today and bought this shit that's "hydrachronic." I don't know what the fuck it is, but it's all natural and it really mellows you out; it's like your body's high but your brain's still pretty much normal functioning. Anyway. enough rambling about maryjuhwanna.)

So we--by we I mean me and Icy, Jennie and her boyfriend Justin--are seriously looking into getting a fucking sweet townhouse at the end of November. I'm so stoked. They're the fucking coolest people and I heart them muchly.

Tattoos tattoos tattoos! I start my sleeves ASAP! I've got them both pretty much all designed and I can't wait.

I'm through with school. Oh, don't look so surprised--we all knew I wasn't going to actually achieve anything like a diploma. Meh. My dad was pretty understanding about it. I looked into going to Colorado Technical to study graphic design, but that shit's boring and expensive, so. La la la. I'll be working full-time soon, hopefully. See paragraph one.

I hate this computer.

I'm happier now than I've been in such a long time. Alison's still trying to adjust to the shock of living in this shitty place, but I'm finally starting to come out of the gloomy fog of depression, more or less for good I feel. I've made many big decisions about my life. I'm 23 years old. It's time to be who I'm gonna be, whoever the fuck that is. I'm sick of living my life for someone else, my parents, a girlfriend, whoever. I put my life on hold for five fucking years--after Dad left--and by fuck I'm going to make some serious changes now. I feel like a great weight has been lifted off me, and I'm gonna get shit accomplished. Wow, it's like I'm finally being me. There's a concept.

I've got sixty pages of Skull&Bones completed, with extraordinarily humungous (sp?)changes to the plot and characters. Anyone who read my early drafts wouldn't recognize it, I bet. Oh well. I'm sure no one cares, but I've got plans for this story. IT WILL BE PUBLISHED--OH, YES, IT WILL BE PUBLISHED. If I have to fucking borrow money from my grandparents and mom to self-publish, I fucking will. I know I'm not a shitty writer--hell, I'm not a shitty person, I don't suck, I'm not a fucking loser. So fuck you.*big tough growl* hahaha (p.s. I forgot to mention, a poem of mine was selected for "second prize"--yeah, along with like thirty other people, big fucking whoop--by Poetry.Com and apparently will be published in their upcoming anthology. I was eligible to win some money, but meh, I didn't, oh well. The poem, for those of you keeping score, was "Miss Teen Wordpower," which you can read in a previous entry)

Anyway. I probably won't update again for a while, because I can't really see the point of keeping an online journal. They only ever got me in trouble before, lol.

Off to paint, or something.

p.p.s. yesterday I was clearing my caller id and there was the strange name "Garrett Jones D" on it, from 8/29. I didn't think too much of it, until my brother told me that this person had called a couple times that night, while me and Alison were out at the bar with Michael, and that the area code just happened to be from Asheville, North Carolina. What the fuck? There's only one person I know who might possibly be in Asheville, and her last name also happens to be Garrett (who knows what "Jones" means). An "ex-girlfriend" (and I use that term pretty loosely). Coincidence? Rawr. I want to know what the fuck's going on. I can't think of ANY reason why she would try to call me, but... hm. Who knows. That number hasn't called since, so maybe it's nothing. Meh. I'll be moving out of here soon, and she'll never know what happened to me anyway--if it was her at all.