fume and fret. (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} feraldolce) wrote,@ 2009-04-11 01:14:00 |
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Cue the Sun
So here's the thing: as of right now, 1:14am on Saturday, my MacBook Pro is cashed like a really nice ass bowl. It just turned off on me, and it won't turn back on. I have an appointment at the Genius Bar in Glendale tomorrow/today. SO. Even if I wanted to write LB12, I won't be able to unless this shit gets fixed. If the drive is wiped, I might disintegrate.
It doesn't help that the laptop I used before, this hugely ridiculous Dell Inspiron, has randomly crashed and no one told me about it. I donated it to my brother, and it was working fine last month. Evil is afoot, kids. I'm currently on an equally shitty Dell something something that my sister last used before she got her MacBook. No shit, it took about 30 minutes for it to start up. Word is on here, and I could write there, but all my notes, my outline, my music, my motherfucking everything is on that MacBook. FML FML FML.
Whatever, whatever. This past week has been bad news after bad news after bad news. Funny part is I should be bemoaning my life right about now. I'm not. I'm a little pissed off, a little sad, but HAY. WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU DO? Shell out a couple bucks and hope for the best. Play TWEWY on the DS. Pick up one of the books that's been at the side of my bed for the past couple months. DO THE LAUNDRY, ahaha. No. Never. Fuck laundry.
But seriously, I was having a talk with You, Me, and Everyone We Know--or whatever the fuck their name is--on the way home after chilling with some friends to offset this suddenly ridiculous turn of events, and I realized a couple things.
Yeah, they're just lyrics. Whatever and fuck you. Do you even know what happened to my Set Your Goals record? I wore that shit out. I played it down to all the burns, all the fuck ups, all the almosts and goddamns. I pumped it in my veins, purged out all the things that don't matter until it really felt like they didn't. I know I say it a lot, but it's not about not giving a fuck. It's about giving a fuck when it matters. For who, for when. I learned that the hard way, getting my ass handed to me by shitty people with shittier values. Handed to me by what God and the government and all of our parents say. It's about re-education, re-seeing. It's about Prometheus Unbound and how maybe Shelley had it right, the smug motherfucker.
Mostly it's about how to count your blessings, suck it up while you can, and cry when it gets tough. I cry, yeah. Cried a couple hours ago. It gets tough, I cry. I cry when I'm frustrated, when I feel helpless. There isn't an embargo on tears. I can still cry them. There isn't anyone trying to shine a floodlight in my face every time I get down on a knee, wring my hands at the soil and wonder WHY THE FUCK, WHY. It's okay to break a little. The important part is knowing how to let it pass, how to see that it's not the end of the fucking world all the time. Patience, trust, way too many fucking cigarettes, and the very best friend I could ever ask for. I've only ever needed one, the one. She gets it where others fail to see the issue at all. She fucks up; we all fuck up. I'm a mean, emotional wreck of a bitch, and I only expect what I give. It's about how you have to build those villages on stilts sometimes, so the water doesn't come up to quick or too much.
I've been wanting a MacBook Air for awhile now, but I think that would be an idiot thing to do right now. There is the possibility of Canada next month, of Vegas this summer, of out of the country next summer. A MacBook Air sounds good now, but when I'm watching the planes fly without me, I'll be kicking myself in the ass.
AHAHA, I'm having a fucking problem. This is how I know it's time to write. Yeah, I had that minor setback where it wasn't the cancer I was hoping for, instead it was this annoying little shroud, fluttering around forever and ever. COULDN'T IT HAVE JUST BEEN CANCER? I would've been ecstatic with cancer, let me tell you. We have to go with the Stones on this one. Can't always get what you want, right?
But I can get it all the other times, so that's okay with me. And now maybe I'll pull up a Word document and see about a couple things. 1:46am has never looked as alive.
So here's the thing: as of right now, 1:14am on Saturday, my MacBook Pro is cashed like a really nice ass bowl. It just turned off on me, and it won't turn back on. I have an appointment at the Genius Bar in Glendale tomorrow/today. SO. Even if I wanted to write LB12, I won't be able to unless this shit gets fixed. If the drive is wiped, I might disintegrate.
It doesn't help that the laptop I used before, this hugely ridiculous Dell Inspiron, has randomly crashed and no one told me about it. I donated it to my brother, and it was working fine last month. Evil is afoot, kids. I'm currently on an equally shitty Dell something something that my sister last used before she got her MacBook. No shit, it took about 30 minutes for it to start up. Word is on here, and I could write there, but all my notes, my outline, my music, my motherfucking everything is on that MacBook. FML FML FML.
Whatever, whatever. This past week has been bad news after bad news after bad news. Funny part is I should be bemoaning my life right about now. I'm not. I'm a little pissed off, a little sad, but HAY. WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU DO? Shell out a couple bucks and hope for the best. Play TWEWY on the DS. Pick up one of the books that's been at the side of my bed for the past couple months. DO THE LAUNDRY, ahaha. No. Never. Fuck laundry.
But seriously, I was having a talk with You, Me, and Everyone We Know--or whatever the fuck their name is--on the way home after chilling with some friends to offset this suddenly ridiculous turn of events, and I realized a couple things.
- Revelations:
- the cost of dreaming's left me in the red
- at least 11,000 people think I'm something I'm not; the courage to let them down isn't something I've still got
- sometimes I want to cheat, but I don't
- I want to quit, but I won't
- 'CAUSE I MADE THIS BED
- give me a shovel, you'll be amazed at at how fast I dig a grave
- you're only brave 'til you're scared
- you're only unique until compared to every other worthless fuck
you can't afford to live like thisYES WE CAN, YES WE CANyou can't be dumb enough to dream so bigYES WE CAN, YES WE CAN
Yeah, they're just lyrics. Whatever and fuck you. Do you even know what happened to my Set Your Goals record? I wore that shit out. I played it down to all the burns, all the fuck ups, all the almosts and goddamns. I pumped it in my veins, purged out all the things that don't matter until it really felt like they didn't. I know I say it a lot, but it's not about not giving a fuck. It's about giving a fuck when it matters. For who, for when. I learned that the hard way, getting my ass handed to me by shitty people with shittier values. Handed to me by what God and the government and all of our parents say. It's about re-education, re-seeing. It's about Prometheus Unbound and how maybe Shelley had it right, the smug motherfucker.
Mostly it's about how to count your blessings, suck it up while you can, and cry when it gets tough. I cry, yeah. Cried a couple hours ago. It gets tough, I cry. I cry when I'm frustrated, when I feel helpless. There isn't an embargo on tears. I can still cry them. There isn't anyone trying to shine a floodlight in my face every time I get down on a knee, wring my hands at the soil and wonder WHY THE FUCK, WHY. It's okay to break a little. The important part is knowing how to let it pass, how to see that it's not the end of the fucking world all the time. Patience, trust, way too many fucking cigarettes, and the very best friend I could ever ask for. I've only ever needed one, the one. She gets it where others fail to see the issue at all. She fucks up; we all fuck up. I'm a mean, emotional wreck of a bitch, and I only expect what I give. It's about how you have to build those villages on stilts sometimes, so the water doesn't come up to quick or too much.
I've been wanting a MacBook Air for awhile now, but I think that would be an idiot thing to do right now. There is the possibility of Canada next month, of Vegas this summer, of out of the country next summer. A MacBook Air sounds good now, but when I'm watching the planes fly without me, I'll be kicking myself in the ass.
AHAHA, I'm having a fucking problem. This is how I know it's time to write. Yeah, I had that minor setback where it wasn't the cancer I was hoping for, instead it was this annoying little shroud, fluttering around forever and ever. COULDN'T IT HAVE JUST BEEN CANCER? I would've been ecstatic with cancer, let me tell you. We have to go with the Stones on this one. Can't always get what you want, right?
But I can get it all the other times, so that's okay with me. And now maybe I'll pull up a Word document and see about a couple things. 1:46am has never looked as alive.
