Abbe yaar.

Life is colossally uncool when all you're doing is managing finances, wading through your job and furiously trying to salvage your life by going that extra mile during the weekend (i.e - eating more calories, watching a so-bad-it's-good movie, drinking and waking up the next morning thinking oh-god-since-when-did-hangovers-get-this-bad).

Ugh.

I confess. I have a bad habit of stalking people I know, on facebook, and wondering why I can't get off my big bum and do something cool with my life? The last time I remember thinking, wow, I have a cool life was in college (graduation) when I was singing.

Intersperse this with Monday morning annoyingly optimistic articles about traveling. How young people should bank on their opportunity and travel the worrrrld.

Here I am. Royally fucking my "opportunity" from behind. And it's not having a good time, I can tell.

If I hear one more girl going, "Awwleeee so cute!" behind my ass I will strangle her.

A writer's narrating his script to us (my team) and I'm busy typing away. He thinks I'm diligently making notes and I think he believes I'm the silent, observant one who opens her mouth once in a while to say something.

In actuality I think he's full of shit. Nothing against him, just his tobacco stained teeth are annoying me. I made a mistake in the morning; the rare chance I had to take on some responsibility and I didn't carry it through. Then we move through the regular drill - why am I here. what am I doing in this job. why can't I leave now. what am I going to do after moving anyway?

I am fighting with my weight everyday. Everyday there's this full fledged battle in my head about how a small piece of butterscotch cake (it's either that or some ghee-soaked sweet, or chocolate or mayo-ed sandwiches) will effect my low-carb, low-fat diet. How I can salvage it, and if there are fatter women around me who don't care what they eat, why should I?

I don't understand the opposite sex. I don't know if I ever want to or now that I have an inkling, I am worried I may never have a normal relationship with men (also includes me not knowing what to do when normal presents itself) - this is at it's dysfunctional best. It owes a whole new post, so let's not dig any deeper here.

My colleague is having troubles with a courier company. They refuse to give deliver her credit card and the more she argues with customer care, the more I want to seep through the receiver and shoot the person she's talking to.

I want to write nicer things, I want to be able to visit this site and write also when I feel happy and blissful and supercool. I want to believe that at 23, I have a world to go through and I don't need to be the master of everything, have all relationships down to a pat, and more so it's okay to be broke, goofy and confused.

Neurotic? I think I can do without being that though.

Ex boyfriends are assholes.
Ugh.