Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

It's late...

...and I am very stupid.

In the drinking, depress-o girl way. Spent most of the day obsessing, in stray moments, about a possible, perceived slight that I may or may not have inflicted on others. The tiniest possible slight, if so, and yet I can't stop wondering: have I offended them? do they think I'm a shmuck?

I was going to work, work, work today, but then there were meetings and stuff, and it turned into a typical Friday. Was going to see X-Men with anaxila and her S.O., but they were sold out. So came home, dicked around, and eventually watched Igby Goes Down. A very cold film, with that Catcher in the Rye sensibility. Cute kid as the lead. It's just the type of film I should like, but I don't think it ever gelled. I cried, though. Still, I cry at VISA commercials, for fuck's sake. I cry for the angst of Coca-Cola. Enculturation sucks.

Last night I watched Two Weeks Notice, which does not seem to have an apostrophe. Sandra Bullock--and, note, Bullock is a stupid name. I feel rather sorry for her, except in the way of totally not caring, because the kids in her grade school probably had no idea that "Bullock" was the kind of name you could mock a person for. I watched this movie in the wrong aspect ratio, not yet having figured out how to set my DVD player correctly. Tonight, I kicked the ass of Toshiba technology. Got that straightened out. Anyway. Hugh Grant: bad hair, from what I could tell, from the weird distorted angle. But it was cute, fun, because the actors were strangely friendly and relaxed, as if they were mildly high all the time. I think that in fact it must take a hell of a lot of effort to look that relaxed when you're working in front of dozens of people.

I could be wrong. Sometimes, with writing, it just flows. Other times it's a huge effort, and you achieve things you didn't mean to achieve, by accident instead of design.

I am so alone and bored tonight. I am always alone, often bored. I will probably go rent more movies and kill the rest of this pint.

I wish I could put my fist through a wall. That seems like it would signify a lot. Sudden rage: fist through a wall! And then a big hole that I'd have to explain to my landlord.

Speaking of which, must try to remember to pay rent. I have the money. Am just scattered and dim with the money thing. This month: lots of late fees. Because I am disorganized, not because I lack money. Hate my own stupidity.

Rather hate everything. Living is a skill, one I don't have.


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