Medula Oblongata

You know what? I feel like a chubby crack addict. All the pounding head pain, stress, paranoia, odd cravings, and dark circles...but without the hollowed out cheeks and skeletal frame. Somehow, that really doesn't seem fair. I've been doing my best lately to be awesome, and the conclusion that I'm beginning to reach is that not only does being awesome take a lot of work, it also makes more pressure on oneself to be continually awesome, rather than allowing oneself to be awesome just now and then. Such is the curse of attempted awesomeness.

Sheeeeze. I wish someone would come and visit me, if only so I would have a slightly more pursueding reason to clean my house. I did my dishes yesterday, but I have a suspicion that it was more because of the smell than as a result of my ambition. Pursueding is bugging me. Did I spell that correctly? I can't trell if I crare anymore. I miss Rachel. And I miss dancing with Candice, who always looks like a baby doll with mad style and killer moves. I have mad style now but nobody cares. That's alright, I'm marching to my own beat. And my head only hurts when I think, so I should be okay. No thoughts...no thoughts. Ouch. A cheeseburger or steak would be really good right now. Ouch. Where are all my customers? Ouch.

This could potentially be a very long day.