I think that maybe by listening to Coldplay, I'm projecting the idea that maybe I want people to think I'm really deep. The truth is, I'm not. I'm a pretty shallow person. I listen to Coldplay because I enjoy the sound of music. If you think I can understand the meaning behind anything they're saying, you've fallen into society's trap and you think I'm a deep, intelligent individual. I'm okay with that. In all honesty, if you do believe that's who I am then I'm probably starting off better than I thought and maybe I should stop talking about what a shallow person I am.
This is my fourth attempt at a blog. I find myself always failing at it because I don't have the attention span or the patience to write as often as I need to in order to keep up a blog. I also don't think I'm very interesting but sometimes things happen to me that I really want to tell someone and I just moved to a new town so there's nobody to tell. I'm going to start off with a clean slate and tell you that I'm a new adult who's afraid of zombies and plays World of Warcraft in Starbucks when she should be working on her fourth attempt at a blog. I'm living on my dad's couch because the current tenant of my apartment refuses to leave. I can't really tell you why I left my old place of residence. Moving was a spur of the moment decision. I'm pretty sure that one morning I'm going to wake up alone in my bright, spacious bachelor suite and realize I'm nowhere near capable of being an actual adult. The whole idea of paying rent and going grocery shopping and getting bills in the mail is somehow romanticized with teenager even though not a single adult in the world would say that it's the fun times we make it out to be. It's kind of like explosive diarrhea. Not a single person in the world who's experienced is would recommend it as a pastime, but anyone that hasn't had it can't help but be fascinated by the concept. It has the world 'explosive' in it so it has to be pretty amazing, right? Then one day they'll eat some bad shellfish and spend the next four days sitting on the toilet and bawling, soon to be added to that percentage of people that have experienced explosive diarrhea.
I just finished a very pleasant conversation with my co-landlord. Yes, in the midst of my avid blogging about diarrhea, my landlord popped by. As you can see I'm all class all the time. I'm moving into my new place soon. Soonish. We're hoping that's the case anyway. The current tenant is-- hang on, I think I already said that. Well, my point is, I really have to pee and I just made a new friend with the lady behind me in the pink sweater. We're going to chat for a while about writing, I'm guessing, and then I'm going to go babysit someone's kid. I'll leave this here for today just because I don't necessarily need to drag this on. It's a bit like beating the blog with a bag of dead turtles. I'll do some work on this later on when I'm not trying to talk and type at the same.
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