it was like a styrophoam hug, did you like it?

Deadlines, deadlines, so many deadlines. So many people in my livingroom and so many of them I really have no interest in ever talking to because I'm being tired and snottyyyyyyyy. So tired. This halloween party we're having at our house and I'm supposed to be showing enthusiasm for sounds like it's going to get even biggerrrrrr and I just want to curl up in my beddddddddd. Sometimes I think I'm on the brink of losing all my intellect. Sometimes I wonder why my life goal was to be an artist and an intellectual: begging for failure. Sometimes we should all wish I was shy again so that I wouldn't open my mouth up so much. Sometimes I want to stick my head in a bucket of cold water and see how long I can hold my breath. So tired. I should shut up. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, I sometimes just want to pick up, move, and disappear. Off to see the world. Sionara. Ciao. Goodbyes, goodbyes, don't want to be charming so I'm disappearinggggggggggg.
Shutting up now.

No I'm not. Apparently one time I wrote on a hot cocoa mix packet, "I hate stories like this." (I know it was me, my handwriting is unmistakable.) And I might not have exactly thought that sentiment again today during church but I did think that there is probably more complexity to that Vietnam war story that she told and I might have thought of Dayan. Because last night I realized I could totally defend one of the crazier of the film theorists. When you can argue in favor of a crazy film theorist crazy crazy you know you're crazy. But my brother-in-law is still more crazy and he said it so himself. Ah, family bonding. That wasn't a sarcastic remark.

Snotty, snot, snot, snot, snot, snot, snottyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

tired.