living proof my ass

i have been sitting in front of my computer, trying to write something coherent that will determine my future, since 3 pm.
it's not working.

instead, i have come to the conclusion that quitting smoking while i am HIGHLY STRESSED OUT, sleep deprived, and generally a little excitable, was not such a great idea. either way, 1 week, smoke-free. someone shoot me, or at least give me some fucking gin.

besides the fact that i will never be a doctor, i am overall very happy. it's probably all the caffeine, which has quickly replaced the cigarettes. i am laughing a lot, which could be mania. also, one can most often find me singing, which, really, helps no one.

so basically, current self portrait would be something like this:
crazy curls that frizz out like a halo, cracked out eyes that shift quickly, a crazy laugh that is only interrupted by yelps of incongruous Cat Power lyrics, which don't go along with my excessively perky demeanor, but that's beside the point, hands that fidget, looking for something to hold onto, anything!, a leg that taps along to my demented singing ("HE WAR!!!!"), and of course, fantastic clothes.

i belong in us weekly.