Fuck you September

For once I had a bad day away from my classes. I had a productive full day at school with motivation just looping around my body during photography and art design and I think that I am finally on a role with both of my folios.

It wasnt until school was over when I sunk in to my seat and repeated the f-word. It was so strange, usually things would be the opposite but because I have had the chance to actually think about my future I really feel like stabbing something.

Perhaps I should put all my options in to balloons and pop them one by one until there is one balloon left and that being the direction I take in life. However, knowing my luck it would be the worse. Yet knowing my predicitions, that bad luck could have potentional to surprise me with what I wanted in the first place. Thus making the balloon idea, well, stupid.

I'm feeling a bit short straw at the moment and slowly growing awkward. I just e-mailed someone that I look up to a letter that I wrote on the bus, filled with 21 question marks. I am afraid that it may be a bit invasive and perhaps tonight wasnt the appropriate time to send it off, but I was peaking on pen and paper and if I stop I'll never climb up my ladder.

Some of the questions I was asking was something a religious person may ask their God or a stoner would bring up in conversation for some fucked up knowlegde. It was so self-indulged - oh fuck, I am self-indulged.

Self-induglement was basically the theme of todays special conversation.