One of these days, I'll get it right. :p
Dec. 18th, 2001 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
batskeetsCouldn't sleep at all last night. Didn't feel sleepy until probably 5:30am, and then I couldn't fall asleep until 7:30am. Sumbitch! I only got 5 hours of sleep though, so MAYBE I'll be tired at the proper time this evening. (yeah, uh-huh ;p) Andre thinks I should see a doctor about my inability to sleep, even when I'm dog tired... maybe I should.
I heart my cool black workout pants with the racing stripe on the side. They are SO CUTE. And far superior to the evil shorts of yesteryear.
The boys went sneaking off to Christmas shop, while I sit at home and work again. James is buying a present, so I couldn't have gone, even if I'd wanted to. (hey, he asked me like 5 minutes after I woke up, so I'm not going to respond well to *anything* in that state) But that's cool, because I've got the rest of my shopping pretty much figured out anyway, so I can hit the stores tomorrow and do a swift, strategic strike.
I went to this page from 8-BT last night. Sometimes the most random stuff will pull at my heartstrings or light a fire under me, and it's situations like this that really make me believe fate is a twisted little bitch. I don't even know who this guy is, but nobody should have to sleep upright in a car while watching his mother possibly die of emphysema. So yes, I sent the guy some money. Only $5, but that's all I could really give without ME having to sleep inside a car. :p
I find it startling that something as major as 9/11 ultimately had little to no effect on me, but reading about a single person's suffering can make me feel so bad. Perhaps it's because this person, in writing that account, has given himself a face and an identity more distinct from the masses. Or maybe it's because a swift death seems better to me than years of suffering in a slow, painful downward spiral towards the same end. I can't put my finger on it, exactly.
Does that make me a really fucked up person?
I heart my cool black workout pants with the racing stripe on the side. They are SO CUTE. And far superior to the evil shorts of yesteryear.
The boys went sneaking off to Christmas shop, while I sit at home and work again. James is buying a present, so I couldn't have gone, even if I'd wanted to. (hey, he asked me like 5 minutes after I woke up, so I'm not going to respond well to *anything* in that state) But that's cool, because I've got the rest of my shopping pretty much figured out anyway, so I can hit the stores tomorrow and do a swift, strategic strike.
I went to this page from 8-BT last night. Sometimes the most random stuff will pull at my heartstrings or light a fire under me, and it's situations like this that really make me believe fate is a twisted little bitch. I don't even know who this guy is, but nobody should have to sleep upright in a car while watching his mother possibly die of emphysema. So yes, I sent the guy some money. Only $5, but that's all I could really give without ME having to sleep inside a car. :p
I find it startling that something as major as 9/11 ultimately had little to no effect on me, but reading about a single person's suffering can make me feel so bad. Perhaps it's because this person, in writing that account, has given himself a face and an identity more distinct from the masses. Or maybe it's because a swift death seems better to me than years of suffering in a slow, painful downward spiral towards the same end. I can't put my finger on it, exactly.
Does that make me a really fucked up person?
