New Year, Same Inadequacies

It's comforting to see that I cannot keep a blog current for the life of me - comforting in the sense that this failure to commit to journal-keeping is a lifelong one for this moi, and nothing is more comforting than familiarity and self-recognition. I remember coming across my childhood diary recently, and the posts would be along the lines of:

July 9, age 6 : do NOT read this!!!! very PRIVIT! KEEP OUT THAT MEENS YOU!

*six months pass*

Jan 15, age 7: SNOW DAY! WHAT SHUD I DO TODAY DIARIE? PLAY IN THE SNOW OK? BYE! SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!

*two years pass*

March 12, age 9: Wow, I'm terrible at this, will definitely do better starting NOW.

...And then I never wrote again.

So while my utter lack of any determination and habit-forming whatsoever is disheartening by even a nine-year-old's standards, at least I'm reliable. Right? Right.

Things I am excited about as of this damn second:

1) My hair is in an enormous beehive hairdo today, which gives me about 3 extra inches of intimidating height, which, if I ever leave my office EVER today, I will use to intimidate some peon that failed to empty half the aerosol contents of a tresemme can onto their gourd today. Suckers.

2) Said hair, currently brown (auburn, if we're being fancy. which I am...not) will supposedly be strawberry blonde this time Monday. I'm a hair model/guinea pig!! Turns out one of the perks of a long term, super monogamous relationship is that you can fuck around with your general appearance and, if the relationship is a good one, snag the other person on the technicality that they have to keep loving you regardless of how fucked up you look. TRICK'S ON YOU, BOYFRIEND (isn't is always?). A stylist named Cassidy (which is really confusing since the email I've been corresponding with "her" at is michaeljolene@emailemailemail.email) is using me as a hair model to up her status from new talent to permanent stylist at a reputable salon in the ATL. I have no idea how it's going to come out, but I crave change so whatever. Excitement persists.

3) It's Friday-- and I swear to God my job IS cushy and NOT demanding but if I have to be here one more second under the florescent lights I'm going to lose mah mind. I don't even have plans this weekend, and I'm excited, that's what a terrible employee I am. That was a lie (terrible blogger too! who knew?! (answer: everyone)) I do have plans but they're horribly coulply and inclusive and I have enough self-loathing and loathing of smug couples in general that I don't care to outline them here. Suffice to say, the primary components are brunch and picture-hanging.... Now aren't we all glad that's the extent of the detail? Moral of story: looking forward to this work week ending.

4) This is like a half-item because I got paid today and I keep thinking 'whoooOOO! Pay DAY! ShopPING!!!1' (I don't know why my brain has infuriating syllabic inflection but that's the honest-to-god truth) but then I immediately follow that up with the rememberance that my entire paycheck (the whoooooooooole shebang, kiddos) is already spoken for by bills and whatnot. So, you know, fuck. Fuck adulthood.

5) I remembered to blog! This is the most exciting one and I'm going to validate my self-satisfaction by hitting the big sexy "PUBLISH POST" button. ...YES without proof-reading. Why do you have to ruin everything, brain?

Off to wear sunglasses by the sunny apartment windows and WILL the temperature to go up 30 degrees.

xoxoxo

Koko