lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely time

i’ve never written in this thing much. i started it up to create a somewhat public avenue for my bitching about all manners of things but i’ve found even i don’t have the energy to be that negative. or at least to focus that negative energy, anyway. so my blog usually sits around, neglected.

however, every now and then i go back and read my old friend steph’s blog

http://missconstrue.livejournal.com/

and realize how fucking cool a blog can be. so today, i have been inspired to try and write in my blog like she did in hers. to simply treat it like a diary. i don’t know if it will work since bill and i often email multiple times a day, essentially treating each other and/or our emails as a diary. the danger of repetition makes me worry this will be redundant and boring for me. i could stop pestering bill so much but fuck that. i like emailing with him. i think it’s funny that a couple large men are in more or less constant e-contact like a couple of schoolgirls. so i will attempt to use the blog now as a secondary diary and see how it goes.

entry #1: took dodge for a walk in the quarry with dana. recounted fun and interesting moments from kim and greg’s wedding this last weekend. murdered dana and left his body in some bushes. KIDDING. baked double chocolate cookies. did the dishes, swept and vacuumed.

pretty riveting so far.

oh, how about this. i finally tried doing yoga at home this morning. i used a youtube video for beginners. it was a piece of crap. the pretty girl who espoused such phony bullshit as “giving yourself permission to just be in the moment” was obviously a basketcase and probably a total nightmare bitch to her unlucky boyfriend. if you need to give yourself permission to be in the moment, you’re fucked right from the start. instead of buying into our cheap westernized take on eastern mysticism, try relaxing and just acting like a normal human being. you can do yoga without $150 lululemon pants and a sanctimonious demeanor.

everyone who has a picture of themselves doing a yoga pose against a sunset or on a mountaintop can fucking die die die

nope.

end diary entry #1.

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