||[Dec. 29th, 2004|12:32 am]
I think I have a personal vendetta against sleep. I can't make myself do it. There must be something wrong with that. I am certainly NOT an insomniac but my body refuses to shut down until the wee hours of the morning, aka 2:30am. Or maybe I just don't let it shut down until then. Either way I am silly for resisting such bliss as my unfortunately dreamless rem.|
On another note, I got a new cell phone. It has pretty colors, wallpaper, and bad ring tones. Best of all, it has photo caller id so, when people like Amy call my mobile device, a ceramic rooster that I photographed on my Samsung E315 previously this eve appears behind her name. Plus, my favorite bad ring tone, one entitled 'Meggy's reminiscences' (a jarring, very digitally hoe-downish ringer) blares and informs me of her attempted telephone connection on my cellular telephone.
Also, I went to Alderwood Shopping Center today. I think I love earrings: dangly ones, hoopy ones, studs, i just love them all. Bracelets too. Oh, and shoes. I LOVE shoes. I also love scarves. See, I thought my mother was burning money on frivolous $40 purchases of Hawaiian soap all the while I was wasting mine own on frivolous sparkly, heeled, and/or wooly accessories. Now if that just doesn't shame a girl. Another realization I had today is this: my scarlet letter a few months ago was judge, I tend to be judgmental and I always tend to make a fool out of myself because of this disgustingly embarrassing tendency. My realization is that, while I try to distance myself from the stature of a judge, I keep quiet and observe others judging. THEN, I have the nerve to stoop so low as to pass judgment on those doing the judging. Then I go off and judge myself! One circle of judgment, how nauseating. What a big black pit of despair and disgust is that! No wonder God said that he was the only one good enough to judge others!
This just in: My Hands Smell. As I sit here, reading over my LJ (as live journal frequenters tend to call their journals), I put my hand by my mouth. It smells like my Grandpa Larry. And he smells like chewing tobacco. Since when do I smell like chewing tobacco? It is nasty and I think I will wash my hands afterall, who likes to smell like Enumclaw (where Grandpa Larry and his chewing tobacco live, thus, what I associate the smell with...half the time anyway [my mom's other parents live there too and they don't smell like chewing tobacco]). Yes, I think I will wash my hands now, after spell check anyway...