Well, it's been one of those weeks: good, bad, ugly, magical...
My tat looks great. It's officially in the last stage of healing: peeling. Yuck, but yay.
Yesterday was cruel punishment for giving up my own apartment. It's a long story, so just trust me on this one. It partly has to do with parents.
I'm trying to wake the F up:
--work more on the business. Seriously, stop half-assing my work just because I'm self-employed.
--realize what the hell I want in a romantic relationship. Stop hurting people with indecision and/or fear.
--develop a style. Home, wardrobe, hair, maybe even a way of speaking that doesn't demand such patience.
--commit to a workout routine. Cough up the 400 bucks and get a freakin pole for home... and USE it.
I wish I could afford a dog. It's like being worshipped without needing to invest all the emotion in return. They don't ask for the same dependency. And they don't talk! ...at least not that you can coherently understand their language. I like taking care of things. It's not so much that I need to be a master, but it's nice to have relative control over a conscious being. I'm sick, I know... ::laughs::
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