The old replace-your-voice-with-a-fist trick eh??
..I found solace in your dancing eyes, But I live on, and you are but a memory..
I've hit a snag in my bloggin 'career'. It has come to my attention that some blogs are guilty of descending into a 'pity-me' attitude. The sort of posts that insinuate that the poster has a monopoly on 'depressive' feelings. Now, a blog is essentially an online journal (well mine is) and sad things, inevitably, will pop up. In a book journal, you write for yourself. No one else will read it. In an online one, you write for yourself AND other people (not the same as writing for everyone per se). I'm sure there's immense articles out there about blogs, that go deeper than my simple Thaozee 101 analysis. Anyway, I confess I would feel strange posting up my full thoughts, as I feel like I'm pushing people to care. But I must post as much as I can. It is a my journal after all. hmmm..
Worked at a farm today. Horrible day. The ground was muddy after all the rain this morning. Too bad I am sans camera because, at one point, I stood up and saw an awesome scene over the fields as the sun was peeking through the clouds. I swear the branches got harder and harder as the day went on, which explains the blisters on my hands (no, it's not because I'm weak.. ). We worked quite fast so I was allowed to go home early. Went to the red rooster in kilsyth to cure my hunger pains (Quarter chicken and chips ahoy!), and the chick (puns ahoy!) serving me looked at me like I was scum. No smiles, no freindly voice tone, just plonking down the food without much care. I know I still had mud all over my face and most of my clothes, crazy unkempt hair, a slightly wild glint in my eyes and my speach consisted of grunts.....but still! Unless you wield the judging stick, that came from the judge tree that was planted by judge Judy herself, then don't judge me. I gave her my "can-you-smell-what-the-rock-is-cooking?" face coupled with my dagger eyes, and I was on my way. I think her name was Jenny.
It's days like these that make me miss my 2 little cousins (Brandon 2 and Bianca 4). They used to visit every sunday morning (hungover day) and play this twisted game, that only children can pull off without repercussions, that consisted of hitting 'Unky Thao' to wake me up. Eventually one of them would hit me square in Le family jewels (Yes, a mockery of the french language. I assume the nation of france will beat down my door and clobber me with their bread sticks, very soon..). They don't visit anymore :(
It's the Queen's birthday this weekend, which means no work on monday. This is good and bad. On one hand, I'm about due for a night out in town for mayhem and goofy dancing, but on the other hand I need some fucken work. Dilemma's up the yin yang!
current tally: $650
Thaozee musings #476: The best song to go to the toilet too is Salt-n-Pepa's Push it
I've hit a snag in my bloggin 'career'. It has come to my attention that some blogs are guilty of descending into a 'pity-me' attitude. The sort of posts that insinuate that the poster has a monopoly on 'depressive' feelings. Now, a blog is essentially an online journal (well mine is) and sad things, inevitably, will pop up. In a book journal, you write for yourself. No one else will read it. In an online one, you write for yourself AND other people (not the same as writing for everyone per se). I'm sure there's immense articles out there about blogs, that go deeper than my simple Thaozee 101 analysis. Anyway, I confess I would feel strange posting up my full thoughts, as I feel like I'm pushing people to care. But I must post as much as I can. It is a my journal after all. hmmm..
Worked at a farm today. Horrible day. The ground was muddy after all the rain this morning. Too bad I am sans camera because, at one point, I stood up and saw an awesome scene over the fields as the sun was peeking through the clouds. I swear the branches got harder and harder as the day went on, which explains the blisters on my hands (no, it's not because I'm weak.. ). We worked quite fast so I was allowed to go home early. Went to the red rooster in kilsyth to cure my hunger pains (Quarter chicken and chips ahoy!), and the chick (puns ahoy!) serving me looked at me like I was scum. No smiles, no freindly voice tone, just plonking down the food without much care. I know I still had mud all over my face and most of my clothes, crazy unkempt hair, a slightly wild glint in my eyes and my speach consisted of grunts.....but still! Unless you wield the judging stick, that came from the judge tree that was planted by judge Judy herself, then don't judge me. I gave her my "can-you-smell-what-the-rock-is-cooking?" face coupled with my dagger eyes, and I was on my way. I think her name was Jenny.
It's days like these that make me miss my 2 little cousins (Brandon 2 and Bianca 4). They used to visit every sunday morning (hungover day) and play this twisted game, that only children can pull off without repercussions, that consisted of hitting 'Unky Thao' to wake me up. Eventually one of them would hit me square in Le family jewels (Yes, a mockery of the french language. I assume the nation of france will beat down my door and clobber me with their bread sticks, very soon..). They don't visit anymore :(
It's the Queen's birthday this weekend, which means no work on monday. This is good and bad. On one hand, I'm about due for a night out in town for mayhem and goofy dancing, but on the other hand I need some fucken work. Dilemma's up the yin yang!
current tally: $650
Thaozee musings #476: The best song to go to the toilet too is Salt-n-Pepa's Push it
posted by Thaozee at 5:04 PM
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