cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

not a good idea

It turns out that breakfast gyros are not a good idea. Funny! I had just gotten accustomed to this thing called a breakfast burrito – and by “gotten accustomed to” I mean “devoured greedily at every justifiable opportunity” – and I lived in Chicago, so I’m down with the gyros, man. But no, gyros are not bred for breakfast traits, so why should they be any good mutated in that way? My stomach feels like it is hosting a rave of badness.

I’ve decided to take action on my pathetic malaise and buy myself new bedding. What this has to do with improving my mood, I’m not quite sure, but Amazon shopping with a recently-discovered gift certificate while listening to System of a Down feels right somehow. Never mind that the common stress behaviors for my MBTI personality type include obsessing over meaningless purchases. I mean, it’s not really considered obsessing unless I’m writing the company to correct their usage of the phrase “snow pea” for what is really a sage green, right? Er.

When I was a little girl, I didn’t dream of being married or being a mommy. I dreamed of being one thing and one thing only: an insufferable pedant. I’m so self-actualized I can hardly stand it.

To answer Gina’s question: no, my webcam is no longer running. You’d be surprised at the number of stalkers those things attract. Or maybe you wouldn’t be, cf. its voyeuristic overtones I mentioned in my last post. I’m still fascinated by Dodgeball and Twitter and other little peeks into someone else’s life, but there is a limit to how much anyone should see of anyone else. Isn’t there?

… o good, a discussion topic.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

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