Enough to make a girl profane.

I'm putting off the Dresden Doll ohmycodi'veseenthemlivenananananaboohbooh entry until a little later. I've got to vent. Just call me Ms. AC.

I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm in one of those EMO videos where the guy sings about everything wrong in his life. Well, right now, I feel like an awful lot of things refuse to be right.

I have a second job now. I'm working as a temporary secretary to the English department where I had my two year stint as a work-study in during school to help pay for my education...and food. You'd say, that's fantastic. Congratulations! You're making more money than Kohls and now you don't have to work at Kohls as often.

But nothing's ever that simple. To recieve something in this world it seems as if something has to be foresaken. The reason why I'm here (literally, I'm at work) is because someone close to me is not. She's not dead. She's not well, though.

Oh Cod! And everything's under a blanket. One of those blue fuzzy blankets where you can see the shape of what's underneath but no one's saying what it is! I need to say it! She's dying!

It's so hard to say. My throat closes in on the words. But it's easier than pretending otherwise. And, yet, it's not without the hope of her surviving that I say it but because it's a relief to get the voices in the back of my mind out. You keep them stuffed in for so long and they get anxious for it. And then you get depressed and cry for no reason at all. Or at least not a very good one. And you wonder why.

Also. The payment that I'm getting conflicts excruciatingly with my low-paying lesser hours Kohls job. I'm going to be eating off of dry limbs and berries by the time I get my first check from here at the end of November. Not that I don't love it here, but Cod, it's friggin' hard. Everything's so hard recently. I feel like I'm living in the cracks of a brick and I can't find the dern exit.

And, no, I can't get an advance on the check.

Then again, you'd probably find that true with most schools. So I don't blame them.

I need to learn how to play a guitar and get my hair in just that way where it's covering only one eye at a time dramatically and depressingly. Maybe then I'd at least make some money for my depressing state.

current picture: (it's not currently uploading pictures for me)

current mood: I'm not telling.