Some things are so utterly depressing.

But others are just so fucking hilarious.

I need to remind myself to laugh more.

Two years ago, I was giving myself similar advice. Oh how things go in circles.

Did you know that the first independently produced album to be released in Canada came from Halifax and only a mere 14 years ago? Really. It came out in 1992. My mind is blown.

Lyrics to Dog Day's new songs are really working for me. I don't really feel like there's anything wrong with playing an instrument in the band, and still being a fan of Seth's and a fan of KC's. I hope no one get mad at me for posting some, written by my guy.

CAREER SUICIDE

Yeah baby, it's true. Where are your friends?
No one that surrounds you.
Your crippled mind.
Just looking for fun.

Don't bother getting out of bed; your occupational dread.
Nothing is going on to keep your mind in check.

Let's go, career suicide.

Yeah, I know there's a lot to say and do,
I just can‚’t believe you've been talking to Satan.
Worship your health; your good looks don't hurt.
Everyone‚’s got the same problems; they're all the same.
Yeah, I know there's a lot to say and be,
I just can‚’t believe you haven't spoken to me.

Let's speak.

Two years ago, someone somewhat Halifamous gave me counterfeit, and Fundog passed on.

I'm not too happy with myself right now. Why do I always feel like this after a night like last night? Why all this guilt? The only thing I did wrong was getting that last beer. That one too many. The ones before that were given to me, and we were all having rounds. I didn't need that last one. I don't need this guilt and depression now. I disappoint myself so often. There are things I've planned to do for a long time now. But I don't like change.

How is it that I can say so much (and think even more) but never really ever make my point?

My point now is that there is a lot of inaccuracies and hyperbole in at least a few recent posts.

Two years ago, the Hold played Hissyfit.

Who am I fooling? Working on myself? Getting to know myself? Yeah right. More like obsessing. Thinking about myself too much. Only seeing things from my perspective. Over-analyzing what someone said to me or how they looked at me. Wondering why. What I could've/should've done/said differently to not cause them to look at me like that. Sorting through junk is not going to tell me who I am. The photos and newspaper clippings are just representative of a certain time or place. One thing that I did one time. They don't define me (although, when I'm gone, it'll be how descendants learn who I was). And it's not like I have no idea who I am, it's just that I'm so boring I think there's gotta be more to me somewhere.

I'm finally getting comfortable with who I am, but I'm realizing that most people don't like who I really am.

Or at least that I feel I don't deserve to be liked.

It really seems sometimes that you don't like me. Of course you deny it when I bring it up. I suppose you can like me, but not like some things about me. But we never want to go out at the same time, we never want to hang out with the same people, you're tired of my negativity, and you are far too concerned with how I "represent" myself. I'd hoped you would be concerned about my injuries from a show a month ago. Instead, you were concerned with how I reacted to it (but maybe, if someone cared, I wouldn't have felt like making a scene).

I need to try harder to paste fake plastic smiles on my face. Normal people think there's something wrong if you don't have a grin plastered on your fucking face all the time.

Two years ago, I failed to get up early.

If it isn't painfully obvious by now, I've been spending time on myself. I may be kind of old to be going through this, or maybe not, but I still don't know who the fuck I am, really. I can only find out by spending time with myself.

I've been sorting through all my belongings, slowly. I'd like to know exactly what I own and why I have it. I'm tired of keeping all this other trash around. I listened to music while I cleaned. But I just put iTunes on shuffle. It's my husband's music collection. I don't really know what's what. Rather, I could know, but I don't really care. If I don't like it, I'll skip forward. It's amazing the stuff that grows in dust behind things that haven't been moved in years. I'm sneezing and itching fairly often.

I've also been spending some time sorting through my thoughts and memories. I'm seeing things in a whole new light.

I just got distracted and cleaned my keyboard. I've been getting distracted and restless while struggling to quit smoking. I've been so crazy the last month. I didn't quit, but I'm not letting myself give in for too long. So I'm often going through withdrawal. I go a day or three, I smoke till the weekend. I try again on Sunday. Repeat.

"What do you mean you can't play chess? I thought people like you are supposed to be good at chess."

Well, I don't know what you mean people like me, but I just don't know how to play chess. I might be good, if I knew how to play.

Two years ago I was settling into my new job nicely.

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