hungry
I really wish my phone got service in my basement. I like to feel secluded, but sometimes someone *coughcough* will text me, and I enjoy that.
Also it would make receiving phone calls easier.
Earlier today:
-phone rings, unidentified number-
Me: Hello?
Them: -static-
Me: I can't hear you, one sec.
Them: -static-
Me: -goes upstairs- Hello?
Them: -static-
Me: Fffffff what is wrong with this house?! I get service NOWHERE!
Them: -static-
I called back five minutes later. Wrong number. Fffffffff.
Anyway. It's almost midnight. I'm gonna watch Ratatouille. I think I'll go up to my room and watch it on Darth, and hopefully have cell phone service. Also I have to go to Target tomorrow to get some shorts and a lock. My mom keeps bugging my ass about my lack of social life. I'm sorry, mom, I don't like hanging out with people. People bother me. I like hanging out in small groups, maybe one or two other people with me, not huge groups like everyone else, so it makes things awkward when I pull a certain person out of said group to enjoy a nice afternoon of just hanging out.
It's not my fault I'm socially retarded and seclude myself from every event. I like it better that way. Also I dislike being wet, so swimming is a no.
So I'm reading How We Are Hungry* by Dave Eggers. It's a gorgeous book, prose-wise, and it's so... depressing, almost. I don't want to spoil anything, but there's this one story (it's a collection of short(ish) stories) about this woman who goes on vacation. The really, really sad thing is that she goes on vacation to "get away," yet is able to perfectly predict everything that is going to happen. It's so sad.
And you know what I fucking hate? When people say I read into books/movies too much. Trust me, it's there to "read into." Authors are deep, they don't just throw shit on the page and sell it. Ffffff people are stupid and need to realize that just because you're not reading in/for a class doesn't mean the book is just an assortment of words on a page, and that there are still tones and themes and diction and metaphors and symbols to look at.
Anyway. I really love this book, despite it's sadness. I'm gonna try and finish it soon, less than 100 pages to go! (I think it's somewhere around 70 pages.)
Soooo off to Ratatouille. Sorry for this incredibly random/somewhat long blog post.
*Speaking of hungry... I'm gonna make some cheesecake soon. ... and I'm about to watch a movie about a rat chef. WTF METAPHORICAL HUNGER. LEAVE ME ALONE!
Also it would make receiving phone calls easier.
Earlier today:
-phone rings, unidentified number-
Me: Hello?
Them: -static-
Me: I can't hear you, one sec.
Them: -static-
Me: -goes upstairs- Hello?
Them: -static-
Me: Fffffff what is wrong with this house?! I get service NOWHERE!
Them: -static-
I called back five minutes later. Wrong number. Fffffffff.
Anyway. It's almost midnight. I'm gonna watch Ratatouille. I think I'll go up to my room and watch it on Darth, and hopefully have cell phone service. Also I have to go to Target tomorrow to get some shorts and a lock. My mom keeps bugging my ass about my lack of social life. I'm sorry, mom, I don't like hanging out with people. People bother me. I like hanging out in small groups, maybe one or two other people with me, not huge groups like everyone else, so it makes things awkward when I pull a certain person out of said group to enjoy a nice afternoon of just hanging out.
It's not my fault I'm socially retarded and seclude myself from every event. I like it better that way. Also I dislike being wet, so swimming is a no.
So I'm reading How We Are Hungry* by Dave Eggers. It's a gorgeous book, prose-wise, and it's so... depressing, almost. I don't want to spoil anything, but there's this one story (it's a collection of short(ish) stories) about this woman who goes on vacation. The really, really sad thing is that she goes on vacation to "get away," yet is able to perfectly predict everything that is going to happen. It's so sad.
And you know what I fucking hate? When people say I read into books/movies too much. Trust me, it's there to "read into." Authors are deep, they don't just throw shit on the page and sell it. Ffffff people are stupid and need to realize that just because you're not reading in/for a class doesn't mean the book is just an assortment of words on a page, and that there are still tones and themes and diction and metaphors and symbols to look at.
Anyway. I really love this book, despite it's sadness. I'm gonna try and finish it soon, less than 100 pages to go! (I think it's somewhere around 70 pages.)
Soooo off to Ratatouille. Sorry for this incredibly random/somewhat long blog post.
*Speaking of hungry... I'm gonna make some cheesecake soon. ... and I'm about to watch a movie about a rat chef. WTF METAPHORICAL HUNGER. LEAVE ME ALONE!
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