**post referred to has been deleted due to explicit melodrama**

bejeezus, disregard is right...i didn't think I'd been that drunk and upset, but oh! what the beer will do to one already sad and lonely. i would have made the best Lonesome Cowboy (-girl/-woman/-goddess) all weepy and mourney and singing sad songs to cattle who would have NO CLUE, cause they're cattle. It's the perfect solution. I would probably be over qualified, though. Nor do I know how to play guitar, which i suspect is probably a major element in that whole, "strumming lugubrious chords and singing high-pitched, tearful songs" thing. Curses, foiled again.

Well, things are (kind of) getting better (provided I continue my heavy drug usage). At least I'm 23. I don't really understand how that fits into the picture particularly as a friend of mine and I today were discussing how the stigma of being out of college and living at home is slowly wearing away. Unfortunately, we are of the generation where we still get the tail end of people looking askance at you, and the end result is that you feel lazy as all get out and worthless and you're continually trying to justify it with the "i'm saving money" defense. And your parents try to justify your minor usefulness with 'we like having you here".

Baloney, as my mom would say.

Bullshit. As I would say.

The fact is, I'm bloody feckin' scared. For all of you happy-go-lucky rotters out there who have your cute little garrett-y apartments and your fantastic internships with the researchers of indigenous basket weaving cultures from East Liverpool which is totally and mysteriously funded by the Smithsonian or the Nat'l Geographic...yes, yes, yes, i'll say it, i wish I were you. Maybe this is one of those infamous "make or break" times...if you don't make the move, make the change, and do it now--soon--something...you fall into a quagmire (called inertia, or Fill-In-Your-Hometown-Here) full of increasingly boring diversions and people whose life stories you know much better than you know your own.