backyard crowing


morning pages edition 1 of a billion

Hi. This is my first edition of the Morning Pages. It's 11:12 am on Friday July 28, 2006. I am about to write three pages of whatever I want. So what do I want?

I'll start off by telling you about my dream last night. I was in High School again on a band trip and our destination was some city north of New York. We drove in large buses all the way to the city. After our performance was through, our schedule dictated that we reboard the bus and go to sleep for the night, and that we would wake up in NYC. I was misinformed, or had not seen the schedule, and assumed we were coming straight back to Houston, with only stops for food and gas. When I stepped back on the bus, I noticed that my seatmate was nowhere to be found, so I sat down quickly and stretched out. I knew I would probably not be allowed to sleep like that, and that my seatmate would probably turn up, but for the moment I had a little more space. Then I heard a couple of girls talking about how the bus was really hot, and so they were wearing their smallest pajamas. Then one said to the other, "Yeah, I called a cab company in New York and arranged for them to meet me and take me to [some very well known church in NY] in the morning. I mean, it's a Sunday, and we'll be in New York, y'know?" I was amazed at the whole conversation, because I thought we weren't going to NYC, but how exciting! I suddenly didn't think I would be able to sleep, and that I would be spending one very tired day in New York. Then someone noticed I didn't have a seatmate, and told their very-crowded buddy to go sit with me. The strange part is that I didn't know any of the band members. None of my old band friends were present, just a bunch of strangers with instruments.

Sure enough, I woke up in Houston. Ugh. Somebody shoot me. At least I have the day off!

Writing three pages of whatever is more challenging than I thought. I haven't written longhand in ages, I think it will bug me.

Annnnd...BAM! I finally reached page 2. Go me. I'm eating some really gross potato chips intermittently as I write this. Wait, that's cheating, right?

Today I need to:
-go talk to my manager about the 3.5 hours that didn't show up on my paycheck
-do lots of laundry
-clean in my bed and bathroom before my mother makes me cough up another fucking ten bucks because I'm not OCD enough for her
-call my dad (ugh...kill me now)
-call my dentist and eye doc to reschedule appts.
-call the loan people to see about when I get the moolah
-read the loan terms
-hopefully watch Good Night and Good Luck since it's due at Blockbuster on Monday
-try to locate the movie Flirting and buy it
-call the college to figure out why I owe 150 bucks, and why I have no tuition bill showing up online
-actually do something fun with my day off and buy myself something with my new paycheck

This is so frustrating. I really need to get this shit done, and here I am wasting my time writing. But I NEED this time, because I need to feel like I am a writer, like I write often and long enough to deserve that title. Janeane Garofalo, WRITER.

Potato chips are completely disgusting and fattening. Why do I eat them?

I've been watching The View lately before work starts with feelings of disgust and interest. When they start discussing Jane Fonda's brassiere or the best ways to pamper yourself, I snore. But amongst the girlish nonsense, every once in a while they come upon a curious, controversial topic that makes me think. Recently some very, VERY rich guy decided to give much of his funds to charities and up-and-coming businesses, while leaving a smaller percentage (still millions upon millions of dollars) to his offspring. This story generated a lengthy diatribe about whether or not the Viewers thought his money was properly allocated. The result was a two thumbs up for the guy. He was investing his money instead of leaving it all with his kids, and in leaving less for his kids, he was investing in them motivation to aspire to something greater. If he wanted to, he could leave every penny to his children, and they would probably not have to work a day in their life. Instead of settling, he reached out to the community--to the charities and businesses--while encouraging his kids to become great, too. He took responsibility for his money, saw that he was in a place financialy to give enormous gifts, and gave them. I'm not sure of the man's name, or why this story was so controversial. Then again, money is ALWAYS controversial. It's probably why my parents broke up.

I have now been writing for more than an hour, and I changed pens (this one has a thicker ballpoint, so my handwriting is bigger). I don't know what else to say.

I met a nice guy on named Sean. He's in Humble (just moved from Splendora, TX) and went to SFA before he could no longer afford it. He was studying to become a band director there, and he's 22. His parents are divorced, and he has a few step and half siblings, but no whole siblings. He's a nice guy, I wish I lived closer to him. If we ever dated, I wonder where he would take me...I miss last summer for one reason only: I had two men after me! Now I suppose I have Marcus, the xanga boy, only I'm not interested in him. He called me a couple of nights ago but didn't leave a message. Since then I have logged onto AIM and attempted to start a conversation (it's nice to hear from a male every once in a while, even if he is just a friend) with him but he was nowhere. Well, he appeared to be online, but he wasn't replying.

Good morning.
End @ 12:32 pm, which means this took one hour and twenty minutes to pump out.

11:12 am - Friday, Jul. 28, 2006


lovesounds - futuresex


about me