Playing Hooky

I’m garbed in my white T-shirt with a panel of photos of a boy I knew in high school that I “campaigned” for to be homecoming king and black shorts that I purchased at a Mest concert that my siblings are enormous fans of (sarcasm).  My hair resembles the cat lady in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. My oven doesn’t work and I woke up in a piss poor attitude.  (Please see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnvgq8STMGM)

I made the mistake of rushing through this semester.  Now I’m counting down the days until I can breathe again.  I wake up with this nervous sort of energy simply because I’m alive.  Because I’ll have to run around all day, I’ll be starving, emotionally worn thin, and frustrated with my future career by the time I snuggle into bed.  It will be nice outside and I’ll be able to enjoy it only while at moving to my next location at the speed of a suburban mother out for her power walk.

The best part of my day tends to be when I let myself go and have a pity party.  Usually this happens around 7 at night.  I got a jump start on it today and decided to push it up to 9 in the morning.  I am rewarding myself by skipping my classes until 2, after which I will proceed with my day as planned because that’s just how acting goes.  I can’t just miss it because I’m about ready to pull out every hair follicle.  Because I feel like I drown people in my desire to talk to them because I’m so desperate for a social life.  Because I somehow manage to feel immensely hungry just about every hour of the day, except yesterday in which I spent way too much money eating out and stuffing my face full at Winger’s.

I would love to say that this blog post is meant to vent and do something therapeutic, but I fear that the entire subconscious intent was to create sympathy in my readers.  If that’s the case, please, do not humor me.  It will only fuel my negativity.  I would much prefer a stark “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” comment in which I might be able to obtain a perspective on my pathetic persona as of late.

All of these embarrassingly cynical views today might stem from the fact that I was woken up by a fly.  Those pesky, bitterness-carrying insects.

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About Kendal

Just a girl.
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2 Responses to Playing Hooky

  1. benji says:

    venting is good. feeling bad that you’re venting is bad. let it be what it is.

    p.s. you’re cool

  2. Jessica Helms says:

    Aw! Our pet fly Bo Bo woke you up!! Glad he came to visit.

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