by the morning i'll feel like shit

"if you hate the taste of wine, why do you drink it 'til you're blind? and if you swear that there's no truth and who cares, how come you say it like you're right? why are you scared to dream of God, when it's salvation that you want? you see stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea just lives on," conor oberst sings on my stereo. i think he has a point.

i think i want to cut all my hair off. like really short. like felicity short. it will probably be ugly. but maybe that's not a bad thing. maybe if i cut my hair off, the symbol of femininity, i won't have girlie feelings. i won't want to fall in love. i won't want to fall into my pre-ordained gender role. i won't feel trapped, chained by my hair. maybe i won't be this over-dramatic.

i just threw a crumpled piece of paper at my trash can. i missed. damn.

i spent six hours today working on my rhetoric 3000-3500 word paper. i finished it. it's about 3200 words. about nine pages. two papers down, one to go and one porfolio left. hell, maybe i will actually get all my work done with limited stress.

"when everything is lonely i can be my own best friend. i get a coffee and the paper, have my own conversations with the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection. the mask i polish in the evening by the morning looks like shit," conor sings. i agree.