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@ 4:25 p.m.
So at work there's basically 2 people higher up than me besides the boss (we're a small company really), and one of them called in sick, and the other had to leave early. i was thinking about how awesome it would be because 1- when they're not around, i'm obviously allowed to cheat my work pretty damn easy. i mean, i cheat my work when they are here lately (because there's no work to be done), but i just thought well this would be even easier than usual. and secondly i was excited because there's one thing that i'm excited to learn better how to do, but the oppurtunity pretty much never arises, because the manager always does it, and when the manager is gone, the assistant manager always does it, so basically they both need to be gone for me to do it. and it's fun-- probably i think this because it's something new to do, not necessary because of anything else. well, it ended up that doing this takes a lot more time and extra review and caution. a mess up could potentionally cause an annoying screw up the next day. so it turns out, my day that was supposed to be filled with slacking off, ended up in me doing actually quite a bit of work. i guess i didn't mind, just that i was also looking forward to slacking without even needing to look over my shoulder.
so yesterday i didn't end up going to the gym. i packed some more, and the room looks a little more managable. at least i took out all the crap that was in my living room and put it back in my room, and i'm actually able to have sitting space. but honestly, i'm terrible at cleaning up. it seems so easy in my head, but when i actually do it, i could spend hours rearranging things, but it'd look like nothing has changed, like i didn't actually make the room any less tidier or cleaner. i've always hated that about myself and have been disappointed that i've never been able to know how to clean efficiently.
so i stayed up until 2:30am last night reading a book that was awesomely enjoyable. why are somance books so addicting? i'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that it's the only time i actually get so deep inside a character that i feel truly elated over a couple's happiness or feel their pain when one of them is doing something stupid that's preventing them from being together. it's so odd that for someone like me who enjoys such happy endings from these novels, would want to write stories that end in tragedy. i also kind of wonder what it says about me that i'm obsessed with reading these books. it's not really like i believe in stories like these. i don't think that if you've supposedly met someone you want to love, that the sex would be that great, or that if you had such great sex or chemistry, it would mean that everything would work out to a happy ending. no i am far too realistic to buy into these notions, yet i guess i find these stories charming. i think i'm drawn to the idea of fairy tales, i think these books are what they are to me.
and i think secondly, why i love linda howard's books so much is that all her men are that- they're so goddamn manly. i know in real life i'd be much too awkward or hesitant to ever accept a date from a real hot guy, with a real hot body, etc. etc. but honestly, it's not even about that. it's not like i wish i were these girls, with their perfect bodies (although i have to admit guys are more likely to have that perfect body, while a lot of times the girl can be plain - i'm pretty sure this is supposed to make me feel like plain old me has a chance at any hottie i want, but i don't buy it), but rather i actually really enjoy each couple as they are. but anyway, i lost my point. the thing is i love reading about hot guys doing CIA/Black ops/some other secretive spying/agent for the govt type guy. i don't know why, but i guess mysterious guys are very intriguing after all. i think i am far more interested in these affairs than the average person. like even dexter's blood analysis/splatter job is so goddamn intriguing to me. if i knew him in real life, i don't think i would be able to stay away from him, merely on the grounds that his job is so interesting! and let's just nevermind on the part where he's a murderer and loves to butcher people.
but on the point of dexter, i got season 4 in the mail today, and i am already cringing through the parts where he butchers people. it's not that the images scare me, but i keep thinking that dexter is gonna get caught. i think that would be worst part of all of it for me, if i were ever in the business of wanting to kill people. just this crazy insane fear that any minute someone's gonna walk in on me. i dunno how dexter can manage to keep his cool like that. but on the point of this, i sometimes have to seriously wonder if there's serial killers out there that haven't been caught yet. i mean, i guess obviously there are as people are being murdered everyday i assume, but i just wonder if there's retired serial killers who are like on bed rest or in a wheel chair that just no longer have the ability to kill that got away with killing a bunch of people. i have to wonder if people like dexter exist?
this monday is labor day, and i'll have the day off, but i feel like i'm going to waste it. i like pretty much all aspects of my job except a few things, and one of them is that i really don't get enough days off. i think we get a total of 5 days off all year long. that really sucks, so when we do get a day off like this, i feel like i should do something special to deserve it, to cherish it, but i just know it's not gonna happen, i'll probably end up doing whatever with c, and not do anything... but maybe we'll get to go to marcos's. i really want to go drinking, but it's impossible to find someone that can drive us back home. i wonder if my brother and i will ever get close enough that he could do that for me. but somehow i can't see c approving of that. i suppose i am thinking too far ahead anyway because he doesn't even have his license yet...
but oh shit i just realized tomorrow is his birthday. wow he's going to be 16. god, i was pretty super excited to be 16. and honestly, i think all my life i've surpressed myself from feeling too much happiness at things like birthdays. like i'd tell myself that i shouldn't let myself be excited over turning 16, because turning a year old doesn't necessarily mean anything changes. and a birthday really isn't all that special, and i know it's because i didn't want myself to get hopeful, because i've never felt like my birthday was that big of a deal. and i can pretty damn well remember how excited i wanted to feel, but how i was forced not to because i didn't want to put myself in that awful position of a let down. now my birthdays truly are apathetic. i can't even like get excited enough over a birthday that i have to force myself to calm down because i know it won't be anything. i guess i have already accepted it's not special that i've learned not to care anyway.
ah, but what to get my brother? god i can't beleive it's tomorrow. i used to be so good at remembering these things. i think i used to care about these things. i swear every time something like this happens, i feel like i've only just reaffirmed the fact that i'm just an empty shell. how horribly detestable. i guess i honestly just should be happy that i was able to remember the day before. i think last year i called him on the day of (i wasn't home, i remember that) the birthday, or maybe it was even 2 days after, to wish him a happy birthday and to ask him what he wanted.
i sometimes want to believe that if i had children of my own, it would change everything. that the fact that they are my own flesh and blood and that i want to care for them will trigger something enough in me that i will at least care about my own goddman children. but i mostly can't help but wonder if my children won't fall underneeth that same category of negligence, and that i will care about them as much as i care about anything else. and then what?