Ooey-Gooey Valentine's Day. Somehow it seems so nice and mushy and romantical when you have someone to share it with. Like you could be with this person 24/7/365, but on this particular day you remember why you really like/love them. Sorta sad that we take our loved ones for granted most of the time. Let's see...what would the perfect Valentine's Day be? How bout covering the lovey dovey person in whip cream and eating them up. No...too Hannibalistic. What about going camping and laying under the stars, only to be eaten to death by mosquitos. No...too Hannibalistic. What about making some din-din like tortellini and garlic bread with pesto sauce. Add some sparkly cider and you got a perfect little night. He brought the Irises (my fav) and the cutesy bear I begged pathetically for. Some ass slappin entertainment provided by a never been kissed barrymore girly...yes my night was cuddly and warm. Naked bodies snuggled together, heat and smiles radiating through the skin and lips. Touching lightly...slowly slumbering off...hoping I don't snore and make him kick me. Hoping he doesn't do a surplus fart and scare me from his embrace. Finding the morning stick in my back, unable to play since work calls my sleepy head. Ah Valentine's Day. I'm so tired but it was so worth it. So maybe he and I can have our own special little Valentine's Day every day. But not Hannibal style.

Some days I wake up and I feel so good. Like I am not sure what is going on or where I am going but I have faith I will get there and the destination is worthy of admiration. Other days I don't know where that faith runs off to, but I feel so scared and lost. I know I am not alone in these feelings and at 21 I still have a lot of growing and developing to do as a person. I just wish there was some magic potion I could buy so I could drink my dose of faith everyday. Faith in humanity, faith in myself, faith in the future, faith in the people around me.There are those good days when the sunshine and hills can make me cry, touched by beauty in its simplicity. Yet other days the most beautiful sunset makes me sad, as if this is the last one I'll ever see. Or it is the end of all ends. I wish I understood me more. I mean granted I know myself in certain ways, but sometimes I don't see myself. I know other people do and I wonder if what they see is something I would be afraid to realize. I feel like this little girl clinging to a swinging pendulum. It rests for a greater percentage on the happy side, but when it swings into darkness the little girl can't see the brighter side. She forgets eventually the force will drive her back to sunshine. It is when she forgets that she loses her faith.

Oh my goodness. I've only been here 2 and a half hours and I am ready to go crazy already. I sit here wishing I was sleeping or doing something fun. And of course I got ditched today so on top of it all I am lonely. God damn I need a raise for these unbearable conditions. This grandma lady who isn't on my account anymore but can't let go....she is constantly at my desk interupting my sleep. It isn't like I don't have things to do to keep me busy, but they are boring and I'd rather write or play Bejeweled (what an addict I have become) Must add that to my list of things to go to Anonymous meetings for. Along with materialistic whores and taco bravo and adults obsessed with childhood and young women with a fetish for Harrison Ford and molesters. I am such a bad girl. Although the boy likes to be molested. Maybe if I hide under my desk people will leave me alone. Or I can start crying and run away. And when people ask what is wrong I can say my imaginary friend died and I am having a hard time. Or my best friend's boyfriend dumped her and it is hitting me so hard that I can't think. But it is so so sad grandma, they were meant to be. Boo-hoo. My personal favorite is running to the bathroom but some people think that you don't deserve to be left alone there either. I need to work at an office with people who are not socially retarded work-a-holics. Thank god I don't have to go to meetings for that. For Valentine's Day I am hoping I get mean pills. Or maybe deaf pills. I should start using sign language only and claim I am now deaf. Then I could just use the finger and tell them that is the only word I know. Well I couldn't tell them...cuz all I could do is flip them off. I'd write that is the only sign I know. And then I could cry. So they would think I was a crazy deaf person. I need a different job. Or for people at work to be abducted by aliens.

So I'm at work wondering why this guy thinks I might have liver spots or anal warts. He thinks he isn't good enough for me or something. And that I could get paid for my charm and wit and presence. That is amusing. Pretty much I am this big clutzy dork. People don't pay attention to me unless they are laughing at me. I am quite cute though at times. And humble. The materialistic whore tendency has got to go though. Lately I am hooked on remnants of childhood. Storybooks with purty pictures and Garbage Pail Kids. This pressing need to reclaim my childhood is starting to consume me. Or maybe I just ran out of things to buy and I reverted to the old and familiar. Like those damn McDonald's Happy Meals that I never liked but saw as a comfort food. Good advertising with the adjective Happy thrown in there. Who can resist? Like if I plaster those boxes on my wall I can have this Happy collage and my life will be that of a 4th grader once more. Right now anything happy is appealing to escape the silicon valley smut I have gotten wrapped up in, addicted to the smell of the green stuff...yet feeling absolutely meaningless in the bigger scheme of things. This is not what I want. I just want some Strawberry Shortcake sheets and the boy with the complex to realize I like him and I'm not Blue Light Specialing things.