No. 216

Groove: Bridget Jone's Diary Soundtrack
Book: Milk Run

I'm blogging again. Wow, isn't it amazing, although it's the 8th, and it completely slipped my mind that my last entry was two days ago. I guess I have a life, a life that I feel bad because it's getting to the point where everyone should leave a msg on my cell and I will get back to them at a certain alotted time I have for myself unless you would love to talk to me late at night. Yes, and even that time is really for the blowdry prep myself for bed state.

I actually don't have much to say, besides that I believe that my girls I live with are great and 5 out of 8, although one did move out, so it's 5 out of 7 are staying together. It's like friends, but we're all female. In reality though, I shouldn't compare my life to friends, because it's nothing like it, and as for me always wanting it to be like that is just some facade I am hiding behind or whatever psychoanalystic answer comes to mind.

Reading endless journals and girly books, I don't know what's wrong with me, it's like I have two sides to me, the one that knows all, the one that can tell all, then they'res the other part that is such all materialistic, it's as if I am the "culture." I embody both materialistic and non-materialistic ideals. It's weird, because I don't know what to make of it, I see people, interact with them, and they just appear to have one side, while I have various ones, which is shocking, and no, I don't name them, and sometimes I don't know they exist until they make a very fashionably late or unthought of entrance.

Moment of the day: grateful that someone close to me told the truth when they knew they should have, and I didn't have to meander my way into having them tell me. That is what i'm greatful for, truthness- in all it's cliches.