over the rivers, you know? and bridges.

I was a very tired soul, and am still, and 27 shines in its mediocrity (for I am now, faithful readers all two, twenty-seven years of age): terribleness, even. The financial situation is despicable. The outlook is less than resplendent. My boyfriend loves to fight. My mother is tired of me. The rain is interminable.

And still the slogging, stepping forth, at once an illumination and a curse: finally, independence, adulthood. Degrees, I suppose it comes in waves, but this wave is very strong, yes -

Meanwhile my ass gets fatter and I learn things everday.


-

Christmas was a train berryling straight into my birthday which was spent crying, mostly, in fits of shattering insecurity and loneliness and ineptitude. I have wants and desires and don't know how to reach them, primary among them being: I would like to be able to afford an apartment to live in, and to not lose my car. But possessions are fleeting and they flit and flicker, you know, like a fucking smoke signal in the wind, made of nothing et cetera.

The work, the money, the income is pushing at the edges of the membrane, threatening to pop the unemployment bubble and gush me out into that vast field of self-employedness. I wish it were here, I miss it before it arrives. The employers are leaving voice messages, requesting conference calls on national holidays, ready to take my work and pay me grandly. I say, yea. Can I get an advance on that?

It is almost 2007, or 2006 at least! the clock strikes downward this year, heavily: we will all lose something we love by the time midnight strikes. The carnage will be significant. The renewal will be awesome in that god-fearing way, too bright to look at: this year we all love and lose and learn and burn and shine and become gods and never look down again at the dirty gum on the sidewalk: this is a year of tidings.

2007. Or 2006, at least. This year is a train.