lazy days

My essay got sent away 23:59:00:00. The deadline was 23:59:00:00. If I pass then the teacher is really nice with the grades - it was a horrible essay.

If I count today I have eight days left here at Paintworld. Eight days. Then I'm off to do something else for three years (hopefully) and then the year I turn 28 I'll be on the right way to do what I want to do. I think. I can't predict the future and I'm not really sure I want to - wouldn't be very much fun to always know what's gonna happen.
I'm terrified though. Not yet paralysed with fear, but incredibly scared. What if I can't get my loan to become mortgage-free for these years? What if I won't be able to pay my bills? What if I fail at absolutely everything at the course? What if the sky falls down? What if I drown in a tidal wave? What if, what if, what if?
Everyone tell me that "it'll be fine - you'll do great". But how can they know? They tell me that it feels like this for everyone and I suppose that's a bit of comfort. Of course, it doesn't help me when I feel like throwing up or when I want to scream out my frustration about not understanding a paper or now, when I keep thinking about how I'm going to pay my bills.
I think I'm going to listen to everyone. I think everyone is right. I think everyone know a bit better than I do right now.

...brains...

My essay is due in exactly 10 hours and 55 minutes. So far it isn't finished. So far it's not really an essay to speak of. So right now I'm mostly mad at myself for actually believing that I need that "last-minute-stress" to do something.

When I was 16 our yearly festival was an incredibly fun event. The music was great, the food was great and there were so much people in there that I'd never seen before.
It wasn't as funny yesterday. I suppose it's because the whole festival's moved a bit. Or maybe I just wasn't up for it. The wild boar-kabob was still nice, but the moose was nicer.
On the good side I did tell two police officers that I think they do a good job. The first one got really surprised which I thought was kinda funny. "No matter what the media says or others, I at least think you do a good job." Sometimes my niceness amazes myself.

Time to find someone's brain...

different

You know, I've been thinking. Well, not so much thinking as actually "being bothered". A friend of mine told me yesterday that "Mss" is the title for an unmarried woman. According to him "Ms" was for divorced women and "Mrs" for married women. In my world "Ms" is the feminist-way to say "fuck off - you don't have to know if I'm married or not" and can mean both "miss" and "mrs". To hear that there's another title is just... wrong. Men have "Mr" if they're unmarried and "Mr" if they're married. Why can't women just have "Ms"? "Mrs" means "Mister's" in my world and let's face it - in this part of the world it's been a while since women were the property of men. (At least legally.)

I hate not knowing stuff.

insane in the membrane

What am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

I know. And still I keep asking myself over and over. I have to quit my job. I have to sell my apartment. I have to move back in with my parents. Or I take a loan. A loan to pay for the loan I already have. Sigh...

brain of mush

In about two hours I'll have told my boss that if work and studies become too much for me I'll quit my job. The job I've had on and off since 2005 and took rather than read a course in children's literature. That I kept rather than going abroad and work. That I went to every day when I wanted to kill myself.
In two months' time I might not have that job anymore. I'm not really sure how it works, I've never quit a job before. Now I can't even write, I just keep staring...

It took me many years to realise what I wanted to do for the rest of my life and now that I have a chance, a real shot, at trying it, my mind goes blank. I suppose that's what it's like when you know that you're life is changing. It was the same when I bought my apartment. When I fell in love. When I got accepted to the University five years ago. The same incredible joy - the same blank mind. This is all that... and so much more. I'm actually willing to end everything I have for something new. And now I feel the adrenaline pumping, haha.

I applied because I thought I was going to loose my job. Then I got to keep it and I got placed on the reserve list. Now, about a month later I feel so bored at work that I feel like setting a coatpile on fire just to get some action and I find out that I'm admitted. You know, people tell me that they don't believe in fate, but how can they not? A friend told me that he could go as long as "karma" - you know, good things happen to good people - and I suppose that'll have to do.

"What's the story, Morning Glory?"

When did people become so nasty?

At least this cutie cheers me up on a boring morning.

braindead

When I was a kid I wanted to be in beauty pageants. I wanted to be up there on the stage and tell everyone that "I want world peace and an end to hunger" and all that. Of course, when I was a kid I also wanted to live in a wooden house with a swimming pool up in the trees, so I suppose my wishes as a kid shouldn't be taken too seriously.

There are parents who want their children to compete against other children and beat them. Like a way of saying "ha ha, my family is much better than yours". You see it in every activity - sports, technique, beauty pageants...

Poor children...