Dear Cleveland

I am a lazy sack of shit. Writing in this blog has become almost become a duty. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I think I may be slightly depressed... but I can't really tell for sure if I am. I'm either really fucking lazy or I've just given up on life completely. I have become a hermit, a recluse...horseshit. I shit on the sunshine by sleeping through the day, watching anime at night and obsessively playing Pet Society. I just bought myself a $2,000 bowler hat. It took me three days to save up for that money. Soybean looks pretty dank. This is my life.

I think my saving grace is Cleveland. What an odd city to pick.. I've been somewhat obsessed with it over the years... I think I may move there after college. Try my luck over there. I don't know why I'm a journalism student. Everybody in my major classes are fucking doing shit with their degrees. Going to shows, snapping pictures, writing reviews, becoming the next fucking traveling reporter for Rolling Stone magazine, writing articles for the Spectator (some career)... worst journalism student ever. No, I'm not depressed... I think I'm just lost. And it's becoming inherent and a taking a toll on me. I have replaced real life with a society of pets. They're not even real pets. They're virtual. Cleveland sure sounds nice, doesn't it?

My plans for spring break include doing keg stands with Cherlaine and Aubrey (also to celebrate their joint bdays - but mostly to attempt to consume an entire keg between the three of us), eating out with Aubrey's mom, oh, and having Catherine Tran aka C.Tran aka skank ho come visit me for a week (pleasant surprise). spring break 09... it shall be.. queer.

I am in complete slump. Thinking about my future makes me queasy and nervous as fuck. So far:

-graduate in a year
-mayhaps acquire art degree in graphic design?
-open the bar (gimli's)
-study environmental law
-stop sucking

ugh. my head hurts. I think I may be depressed. I'm getting a headache debating if I am or not. It's hard to tell because everyone here is fucking depressed - so you don't know if you're just subconsciously imitating their behaviors or if it's all just a facade and at the end of the day - you truly are just yuppie shit.

I think it's the latter. I am yuppie shit. complain complain grumble grumble parents help me out on rent. my god. That's the answer. I'm not depressed. I am just Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted- young, talented, smoker... and spoiled little girl that went mentally insane because she's full of herself and had to write a book about her 'experiences' and tell the world about, again, herself. This blog is the thesis of Girl, Interrupted. fuck me.


Someone slap me.

My worst fear is finding out that Cleveland wasn't the answer after all. Just like NYC isn't. Or Chicago. Or Prague. Or anytime I run away to a new city to try and 'fix' whatever is wrong with me. I don't think I want to be wayward my entire life. It's a funny character flaw now - but in 50 years when I am god knows where and alone in some dingy apartment, I think I'd be in agony about how much I miss these days.


It is also 4:14 a.m. You read this and agree that everything I just said was full of shit. Or, you could say 'fuck it' and join me in Cleveland. Your call.