Seeing balloons fly up, up, up to the sky makes me glum. It's a lonely, helpless sight.
Maybe someday I will unpack my college things.
I shdould go a sddya withought backespacing anythign I type.
But not today. I will spare you.
I lie to myself, a lot.
My indecision gets in my way, a lot.
Why is it called 'Bucket List'?
I had a Bucket List, once. I am not sure where it went. It had things on it like, "Paint a mural." and "Find a needle in a haystack."
I have a playlist to share [again]. It's a different piece of work. More bookmarked songs from Pandora. Only they are not songs I listen to repeatedly. Well, some of them I listen to often. If you'd like to hear, here you go.
How does one's bedroom become so horrendously messy when one's possessions are not yet unpacked?
I miss my apartment bedroom.
But it's okay. I have my room, here at home. It's pink. Barbie pink. Not for long. I am going to take a paintball gun to it, pretty soon.