Yeah, insomniac that I yam, I drove to the campus at two in the morning to use the computer. I've got some items up on eBay but they're not selling. So much for the project I had such high hopes for. It's discouraging. I'm discouraged. I slept all day, which might account for why I can't sleep tonight. At least I got enough money to gas up my car.
Other than painting these dumb-ass dolls, I don't know what I can do for money, short of selling my body. But they couldn't afford me anyway.
Guess I'll go home and have some warm milk.
Heard from an old friend, John. We met in 1989, on the first job I had when I got out of the corps. He was a marine reservist so we'd yack about that. He and his wife used to go out with my then boyfriend and me. His wife had cancer and died, which was really sad. A few years later, I hooked up with my now ex-husband and John remarried. It's a shame, but I never cared for that person he married; she was always a dick to me. I attributed it to snobbishness based on the fact that I was far beneath them socio-economically and plus didn't have a college edumacation. I never told John how I felt because I felt it wasn't my place, so eventually we stopped communicating. Then the other day he sends me a note and wants to email me pictures of his toddler son. You know, I like John and I miss him as a friend, but I don't want to see pics of his kid. I'm just not a kid person. Ya got any dogs or cats? Dolls? Bring on the pics. Kids, bah.
Sometimes I wonder if my antidepressants are working because I feel so blah.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 4:34 AM
1 Comments:
Amen, sister. It's all about the pet pics for me.
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