9:17 pm - November 24, 2005
I love croissants.
Goodness, I've just been reading up on myself, and I've been so distracted for ages that it's all been quick post-its.
They say that hurt breeds inspiration.
Apparently not. So, as a quick re-cap; cat died, uncle died, father did a crazy-thing (as he is wont to do), lovely boyfriend proved not so lovely and left me on claims of infidelity, G-ma's had a bad fall and become invalid (heh. invalid and in-valid... Okay, my sense of humor's warped more than usual). Did I leave anything else out?
So, I've written of leaving the media whorehouse. What doesn't translate so well is lack of stimulation, however mundane. I'm living inside my head far too often. People are leaving me in droves, as my fun G-ma stuff combined with the whole "why bother" mentality is rather off-putting. The number of "Deareddie, you're so flakey" letters is downright depressing. Or heartening, depending on how much you like those letters.
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