yellow checkered cabs

I need a hero...

This girl just called me her hero. It was just one song. Ask for the entire album, and I’ll show you hero.

In other news; my writing sucks, my stomach hurts and i need a new muse. So basically, life couldn’t be better.

define:procrastinate

• postpone doing what one should be doing; “He did not want to write the letter and procrastinated for days”
• postpone or delay needlessly; “He procrastinated the matter until it was almost too late”
• procrastination is the deferement or avoidance of an action or task to later time and is often linked to perfectionism

Yep, that’s what I’m doing. Although I frown upon the use of “he” in both sentences. And no, not because I’m a feminist, but because. That’s right, just because.

I’m procrastinating on life by reading, living and breathing everything by:

(I was once told I look like her. I prefer her hair. And her smile.)

So I’m back. From outer space. Well, not really. I’m back from a week filled with nothing but work, work, work. I hate working. It’s times like these that I’m thinking about becoming a desperate housewife. Do you think they’re called desperate housewives because they’ve grabbed onto the first man they saw desperately? Nevermind.

 Anyways, why is it called Good Friday in English? It doesn’t make any sense. In Swedish we call it långfredagen, which translates as long Friday. It makes sense. It had to have been a looong Friday. There was nothing good about this particular Friday. The whole reason we celebrate Easter (I almost wrote Christmas) is because of Jesus, and for him it couldn’t have been a good Friday. Sure it can be considered good if you count the whole resurrection thing but that didn’t even happen for another three days, so it really wasn’t a good Friday. He was crucified for crying out loud. I doubt there was anything pleasant about that. And then he had to go down-under and there really wasn’t anything good about that considering all the death that was involved. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s all I’m saying. It wasn’t a good Friday.

I told my mother that we’re watching The Passion of the Christ when I get home from work tonight. And you can just tell that she’s blatantly against it every time I bring it up. It’s written all over her face. She’s all like “But I’ve heard it’s really unpleasant, and violent. I don’t want to watch that, it’s too horrifying.” Well, gee mom, it wasn’t really a walk in the park for him either. If you’re ever going to watch The Passion it’s during Easter. Cause youknow, this is when it happened. I’m the only one in my family that’s seen it. And yeah, it was everything that my mom thinks it is. But that’s the point. It’s supposed to show you what it was like. Instead of the rose-coloured pleasantries that you hear about in Sunday school when you’re little.

 Cause it wasn’t a Good freaking Friday. It was a freaky Friday. (I just had to, I’m sorry.)

When you're weary...

Soo. Now I’ve once again started something that I probably won’t ever finish. Yay me. I think it’s because it’s Sunday, I always get the urge to start something new on Sundays. And it’s not because tomorrow’s a new week, filled with endless possibilities. No, it’s because there’s something about Sundays that makes me sad. And sadness is bad. Most of the time.

I read this old post that I wrote way back in 2005 on myspace (which I’ve almost completely quit btw) where I talked about Garden State (the movie, not New Jersey), and how I wanted to be more like Sam. Except for the whole lying part, but maybe I should have that characteristic too cause it’d probably make me more interesting. I am completely convinced that I am totally uninteresting to everyone else. Except for my friends, and I’m sure they’ve only forced themselves to tolerate me anyway. It is what friends do after all.

 Yeah, so I’m rambling. But it’s Sunday night, and I’m trying to keep away from the sadness here. It’s like Angela says on My so-called life:

“There’s something about Sunday night that really makes you want to kill yourself.” Yeah, I know, but it’s true. So there. Maybe I’ll see you around, or maybe I’ll quit. Again.