i never post.
i must be busy or something... rrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiight.

so i'm looking for housing for the summer. its weird. and for some reason behind every "marc," "debra," or "holly," i see a rapist, molester, or psychopath with a foot fetish. i don't know if i can do this. someone tell me i can. someone convince me that yes, i can call these numbers. yes... i can sound like i know what a lease is... yes, i will be able to trek downtown to see these rooms that they want me to pay them for. i dunno. i'm starting to give up on this group house that a bunch of ppl i know are trying to get going. i'm thinking i might do better on my own. if better means getting stuck in something... RAT INFESTED, HAUNTED, RIGHT NEXT TO THAT AX MURDERER, SLEEPING IN THE ROOM ABOVE THAT CREEP-O AT THE BUS STOP... ONLY MINUTES FROM SHOPPING AND TTC. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

and my big ice cube of faith in the human race just got another chip in it. someone stole the tape recorder installed in my artwork thing. yea. i just wanted to cry. not because i cared all that much about the tape recorder... but because i was angry. angry that my piece is incomplete. angry that someone doesn't care.

on a brighter note... i woke up happy today. not that i usually wake up miserable... i actually usually wake up slightly jaded/unresponsive. but not today.
and that deserves a gold star.

this was a turd of a post.