All right blog. Eugene has set my mind reeling. I was alot more angry earlier tonight, but not so much now. I’m listening to "Universe" and now "Ah, Sweet Dancer". I suppose I’ll be all right soon. Hormones and mood swings, depression and other blessings. Isn’t puberty wonderful.
Mm, I guess I wanted to talk to someone alot more earlier. To release some of the frustration I was feeling. I wanted to break something, but I guess it happens to everyone at some stage. I didn’t want to relax, I didn’t want to.. to feel peaceful again, I wanted to rant and rave and rage my heart out. Still, I don’t think I’m going to be able to now. After the anger comes the depression, but I’ll be all right. *sigh* Ivy loves me. Nothing else matters right now, but God it’s getting so hard to live without her. It’s times like these when I really need her to be here for me, but she has work to do, she’s going to sleep. I don’t think she’s coming on when I asked if she could, I’ve yet to receive a reply. Nevermind, the music will soothe the wild beast I suppose.
Matt would be very proud of me. Animalistic, screaming about seeing hobbits from hysteria, punching things and smashing walls with pillows. Yep, that’s me when I’ve lost it. If you’re unlucky enough to prod me I’d probably dance circles around you smacking you in every possible opening until you’re lying crippled on the ground. *sighs, again* Nah, I wouldn’t. I’d stride back to my room and rant like I’m brinking now. I want chocolate. *eats, wait for it, chocolate.* Okay. Here’s the plan.
Plan A. Rave for a little while, just cool off, feel all right and go to bed curtly and happily remembering that I have a beautiful and wonderful girlfriend who will love and care for me forever. Okay, smiling, Plan A just succeeded. Don’t quite feel like going to bed yet.
Plan B. Go to bed anyway.
Plan C. Improvise.
Plan D. Kill Eugene/anyone who touches another nerve tonight
Plan E. Against the rules, not an option.
Alrighty. Plan A. But how do I get the will to sleep? I could just stay up for a while and wait I suppose. Perhaps I should start reading Message in a Bottle. Yes, that sounds nice. Mm, my fingers are sore from playing the guitar. I love playing it, but if I do it too much my fingerstips will harden until they’re rough and no longer feel pain. Let me tell you: ouchie. My poor poor fingers. Still, I’m proud. I can play Love Grows and Zelda’s Lullaby after about 10 mistakes per song, really, really slowly, but that’s okay. Practice makes perfect.
Practice = Ouchie. Ouchie + more Practice = Bigger Ouchie. Bigger Ouchie + Ouchie = *censored naughty words*
Thus is the life of a musician.
Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed, read myself to sleep and ** yeah. Mm… Okay I’m just about back to normal now. Thank you Ocean, Pretty Boy McGregor/Nicole Kidman and Jay Chou. Good night whoever the heck decided to read this, and Dav-za, please piss off. You need to find more of a life than reading my blog. I don’t essentially mind, but sometimes you creep me out a little, which isn’t a good thing.
Good night world