i’m all for language evolving and everything, but i would literally die in defense of the Oxford comma.
FISHY
NOT AN ACCIDENT
SOMEONE PLANNED THIS
Well, I wasn’t selected for either of the two jobs I applied for in Iraq. I did see it coming entirely, as I didn’t even hit their minimum requirements of three years of international experience.
But I still was amping myself up for it. Expecting it, to an extent. Quite stupid, I know.
All hope is not lost, though–I’m sure I can find SOMETHING there (knock on wood). Even if it’s a super menial thing, there has to be something.
It’s still a bummer, though. I really wanted one of those two positions. Oh well. Time to really (and more realistically) search for work there.
I never liked talking about things – the real things, I mean. I used to, but that was only with specific people, and only if I thought things could be better as a result of the talking. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t want to talk about anything, with anyone, even if it might make it better. It helps that nobody tries. Ah, the benefits of seeming emotionally disconnected. Don’t let the real stuff show and nobody will think it exists. But life can be difficult, even for those who bury it. In fits and jolts, it can be a real burden. These last three-plus years have had some deep, scraping lows.
By the way, don’t anybody send me any messages because of this. I’m not poking around for counsel and I’m not interested in whack-a-mole compassion. This is the closest thing to a journal I have, these occasional, stupid text posts sandwiched between mindless reblogs. That’s all.
I should have brought more Hot Cheetos 😓
Yesterday was my first time back at the gym in like two or three months.
And I specifically took it easy! I didn’t do everything I’d normally do so I could warm back into things and avoid the dreaded t-rex arms.
But of course it didn’t work. Just woke up and I can’t extend either of my arms out. Feels like someone has put corkscrews on the inside part of each of my elbows.