I've been meaning to write. Letters. Stories. Lovelorn odes to the world beyond my routine.
There has been a fire lit under my ass and now I am hustling to come up with stories, resumes, letters, budgets, pitches, and proposals. Ever looming deadlines make me nervous and my mood swings are worse than a swingset at recess. I blame the drugs.
One application asks for my "favorite personal story". I have so many and so few all at once. I can string fragments into bigger stories (very much like my love life), but there is no one defining story per se. Perhaps mashups have been my downfall. The truth seems to have escaped me for the umpteenth time. I am just stuck when it comes to sticking to just one thing (if one thing really means one...).
Another Application asks for 1200 words maximum of something untrue.
And yet another asks for up to 40 pages of something equally untrue.
There are so many missions. I will not abort any of them.
My mom told me that Matt "better put a ring on it". Oh dear lord.
Forgive me Moses, Jesus, Allah.
Payday. (yay!)
Forgot purse at home (boo!)
I don't have to go home (yay/boo!)
And sometimes the tears just have to come.
About Me
- Xlynn
- I live my life by song lyrics, have a chronic/terminal case of smartassitis and and currently taking medication to combat a particularly hearty strain of Don'tgiveafuck syndrome. I do the 22k in april to raise money for research. I appreciate your prayers. I'm also a sarcastic, habitual liar. ...sometimes. You will be my new best friend if you can tell me exactly what the fuck Paul Simon and Julio Were doing down by the schoolyard, the exact location of Carmen Sandiego, and the real words to "Blinded By The Lights" (revved up like a deuce, you know, a roller in the night?). I will date you if you can name 3 Green Day albums that aren't American Idiot. I'm a handful but my friends love me. good luck!
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