think of what you're saying. you can get it wrong and still you think that it's alright.

music i would be listening to, if i still had a music player:
- for nancy, pete yorn
- we can work it out, heather nova
- rexall, dave navarro
- the referenced song from david sylvian
- the entire revolver album
- mrs. brown you've got a lovely daughter, herman's hermits

this must be what it feels like to be diagnosed with terminal illness. there's shock, panic, anger, confusion, then eventually some sort of grim acceptance. although one knows there will be one last day where everything pretty much ends, one is quite surprised to realized that, there is in fact yet another day tomorrow.

it will be a long week. i wish the days would zoom towards the weekend while i sleep tonight. that tomorrow be the end of the week, or month, or year, and that i could finally shake off everything that's happened these last few weeks. but there isn't any comfort in wishing anymore.

i could see a whole bunch of mess from all directions and they're still piling up. not all at once to cause one to stop in sudden panic -- but in small graduations, in thin layers. i deal well with mess, but things have come to a point that i will deal with one trouble and then something new comes up. and then i deal with that as well, then another one manifests. and then i deal with the third one, and on and on it'll follow the same stupid pattern until i'll end up tired and used and half-done with the things i've set out to do. and because they're half-done, they'll cause their own little troubles as well, and here we go again.

i looked at the mirror again this morning and i looked weary. comparing it to photos from three years back, there's definitely a big change in my appearance. sure i was still slightly wasted when i got into the office, but the lines of my face formed a somewhat distorted image. i see the man covering his ears from the sounds of a scream.

try to be cheerful. think happy thoughts. find reasons not to act like a supposedly alienated teenager. acting depressed for its own sake is, well, depressing. there are people and things to be happy about. but lately trouble's been creeping in those directions, too, and i don't want to see the day when i have to force happiness on myself.

i think i'll pass by the supermarket and cook tonight's dinner.

i was banned at someone's house. this is the fourth instance this year that someone declared i am not to speak to/see them again; though this time the ban came from a total stranger.

something is definitely wrong with me.