rant rant rant

Since I haven’t blogged in awhile, I thought I’d try some free form:

My phone just rang. I think that it’s the most annoying sound there is, that ordinary telephone ring. But I’m much too indecisive to choose a song. And too cheap. It was my mom, but I ignored her- I don’t like to be interrupted while I’m writing. There are way too many thoughts in my head, and I think that they all sound ridiculous. I love endings. Because as soon as I end a sentence, I can start a new one. And I’m usually tired of a sentence the moment I start it. I’m changing things as I type, and I don’t think you’re supposed to do that in free form. I hate the word “that”. I hate putting periods inside quotations. I’m going to join the associated press and change that rule. I don’t like capitalizing things I don’t feel should be capitalized. My boyfriend is being super-agreeable right now and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier about that. He wants to see me today and tomorrow, and I know there must be a catch to that. I’m going to try so hard not to fight with him. I know there’s something wrong with me that I think this is okay to keep doing. It’s obviously not a good relationship if you think in the mindset that he and I both do, always waiting for the next argument. But I just don’t know what to do, because I refuse to give up. Sometimes I think maybe there’s another guy out there, who wants to meet someone like me, and that maybe we’ll run into each other and I’ll choose him. But then I remember this is reality, not a movie. And I know that relationships take work. But I’m sick of talking about that. I get tired of talking about relationships very easily. And I hate that this post has no direction. I guess it has been drilled into me that writing is supposed to be structured and have a point. A beginning, middle, and end. Bleh. I think that my idea of structure messes with the way I do things. For instance, there is always so much to be done, like right now I have to clean up my room and put clothes away, call back my mom, get dressed, greet my landlord and speak with him about some things, probably eat, finish my article for TTN, and then go to Tree House at 3. That’s less than two hours. And when I get back I’ll have to shower, probably finish my room, go pick up Ben, bring him here…and on and on. Why has this turned into a to-do list? I hope that this has at least brought me peace of mind, because it certainly hasn’t been beneficial to any one else. Which I thought was the point of my writing? Oh well.

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