Well, another weekend is behind us. Shrek2 which was FANTASTIC! GO.. NOW ! A kiss. Some Painting. A small trip to Rhode Island (with drinking ala tailgating) to go to Kamp turned scary when a "hot body " contest could give you the chance to win a year's subscription to Manhunt followed by a lazer-light, jockstrap-wearing tweaker showed off his impressively big d$#k for us all to see. Could have been hot but believe me it was far from it. Why? I dunno anymore. Am I just getting over the tired gay scene, the meaningless hookups with meaningless boys, the obsession with following an idea, the inability for people to hold a conversation? I dunno.. but my manhunt membership has been canceled, and when I started to notice this in Kamp, we thankfully left, but only to head to Mirabar. Thankfully, there was some better music which was by far the best thing going for it. (Thankfully, we had enough of the good music to dance shirtless, fabulously with my friends). It, as I noticed, was a place where you should come out in because everyone else was in the process of it. The small thunderstorm at night felt cleansing. I felt happy for not attending a party that would have made me feel entirely worse. Happy, sorta, that I came home alone to a book.
Wake up. Run around with head your cut off, running into THEE ex boyfriend, feeling like you are pseudo accomplishing something in your life with artwork being displayed somewhere. But, when that feeling could possibly get to your head, nothing sells leaving you feel worthless and confused on the idea of being an artist. So instead, I hid it all like usual and pretended that I was happy with more distractions of friends and drinks and dinner and then some Sex in the City. Yes, again. As I started to think (along with others) that maybe this series shouldn't be watched in my weird mental state, I decided that if I chose not to watch the show right now, I would be succombing to the typical norm of hiding my feelings or lieing about it or even denying things about myself (which it would be, if I choose not to accept the fact that I am emotional and a romantic). And Sunday night with a book alone feels not as satisfying.