I have a fuckin' lot of entries.

One thousand, one hundred and eighty one, as of this one, I believe.

That's a lot!

I've been lazy about archiving them the past few years.

This diary has kind of slowed, because I have to censure myself a lot (people I know read this now, and it's a bit eerie).

I'm kind of tired, and high at the moment. I had a couple lovely little green cookies.

It's nice, in moderation.

I don't think I could ever do a wake-and-bake. That's just...I don't know. I don't think my brain could handle it.

I'm really short on money this month.

I know those don't seem connected, and they aren't. This is really a stream of conciousness.

I might phone my dad. I really didn't want to, but I might have to. I'm about $140 short. I don't have a job. I don't think welfare will take me, either.

Stupid welfare.

I went job hunting today. I wore EYELINER, and everything. It was kind of creepy.

But I wore liquid eyeliner (looks nicer; I usually don't wear it), and managed to put it on straight, and vibrant red lipstick.

I offed the golden yellow scarf and the red scarf for the more conservative brown velvet burnout scarf (my mother bought it for me; it's the first time I ever wore it).

I wore a pretty conservative yet creative pearl (real) and blue glass necklace (which I made) and pearl studs (fake; one of which I broke while taking it off). My ears swell when ever I wear earrings. They're not so bad this time, but still.

I wore a plain black shirt (clean) and a black pinstriped skirt I sewed (here), a black velvet blazer (which not an obscene pin in sight), and the scarf.

I looked pretty sharp.

I passed out a handful of resumes to likely places.

I only have one left, which I intent to take to Hell-Mart. I mean Sprawl-Mart. Or what ever.

Life is good, but still kinda sucks at the same time.

I wish my mom would stop giving me advice.

.

Rosie.

Before&After