I'm a fleabit peanut monkey

Things are sooo different now. Things change every day. I'm happier than I ever was, ironically enough. I'll never stop being objectified if I don't hang up the habit myself. I'm more than the sum of my.. um.. parts. haha. that works. I guess my little-girlhood is coming to a close and I'm getting closer to actualizing the woman I'm meant to be. That's all I can be. There isn't anyone better than being me than I. And I wouldn't want to be anyone else. Sure, it'd be nice to have legs like Jean Shrimpton and a waist like Brigitte Bardot. But I come first.

if that makes any sense.

come summer, and it's back to dancing all night!

Throughout my life I've always tried to ignore the rest of my generation, basically, because I've never felt that I could really call myself part of it. Well, Gloria, there's no way you're going to go back in time forty years, so you're stuck with us. We're the most well-documented generation and no one outside knows anything about us. It makes me wonder how much we even know about ourselves. Everyone's too concerned with their self to even begin to look for something in their neighbor they can identify with. In fact, the only common ground we stand on is that of conceitedness. With all the introspection we ALL do it's a wonder why we can't understand ourselves better. I think that's it, though. I think we all do far too much introspection and don't spend nearly enough time with the concerns of others. With me, nobody ever thought, "I wonder if there's something wrong with her." It was always, "Hmm, I wonder if she'll let me in on how she gets herself to look like that." And the fact that I care so much about not having gotten attention from others is indication enough that our generation just happens to be the most detached, egotistical generation thus far! And I can't stand any of it!

Awh, fuck.. Things are gettin' hard for me again, and not in the typical teenager-being-all-angsty way either [duh.. I don't think I've ever experienced those kinds of difficulties].

It frustrates the hell out of me when some things are perfect and others are all hunky-dory. I feel like a little girl who can't keep all her jelly beans in order. Which is, essentially, the role I'm playing here, I guess.

Of course I'm not gonna let myself succumb to a temptation so (I could replace this with 'wasteful', 'time-consuming', 'worthless', but) STUPID. Even when it seems like I'm tumbling down that southward spiral again, I'm not gonna let myself go. I won't, and Mick and Pete and Arthur and John and whoever the fuck else aren't gonna let me anyway. In the past month I've come to realize that so many things are SO much more important than this shit. It isn't even worth talking about, let alone crying about or destroying relationships over or being mad over or losing LIFE over.

So fuck it.
It'S GOING TO HELL.

aaahhhh Slim Harpo.