i have previously posted 69 times

and the jokes never die.


i keep thinking about what to write next and then i forget to write and then i just forget altogether.

fact is im tired of the things im thinking about because i whine and complain and i apologize for it which only makes people get the sad brow and reassure me which then just pisses me off because i start thinking about gender sterotypes and how women are and how its not really true which just brings me back to second guesssing myself and twisting my brain tighter into the knot of which it is circular thinking.

but lets try this.

I, Meredith Lobsinger, solidified in identity by the script on her nametag, am:

no.

haha, nevermind, im drinking so i dont want to go there right now.

there are just too many options every moment of the day.

dont study english. you can get all tripped up on anything else and how many options there are but at least you can still talk about them. When you study speech, you become inhibited to talk about how you talk about speech.

maybe i do freak myself out but for freckles sake i lose my words. I wish i didn't have to. i wonder if sign language has a word for "front" or "assonance" or "autonomy".

there is nothing without language.

i gotta start doing something im good at or ill bust. I can't stop myself from thinking about all the stupid shit ive done.
I hit Jenny Rounds in the back of the head with a softball during warm ups when Mr. Dillon made me catch for the first time.
I got involved with a pyriamid scheme because i was desperate and thought that my manipulation skills would really pay off this time (fantasy/reality...o you have no idea)
I told Ferk that i hoped he was proud of me during his retirement party and ill never ever be able to get the image of his face out of my head for as long as i live. And so long live the frustration.

well ok. thats it really. God forgive me for those, this is blogger therapy.
fact is there's nothing wrong with me. That's a scary fact. Give up get married go to church and get a job. Buy a couch, some laundry detergent, a potato peeler.

I'm afraid of originality. I'm afraid that i dont have any. I dont want to listen to anyone else. I dont really want to go look it up on the internet. O im rolling now.

Today while i was at the rec rocking my elyptical machine and silently competing against the girl next to me without looking like i was trying...
i stare at the construction workers building the new ice rink from the windows. I'm not really thinking of anything but i try to. I wanted to drape a sign from the scaffolding about our insane "health concious" culture and i was wondering how i could get up there or how i could hang some large cloth banner and i immediately thought of the internet.
of course, i can go look it up on the internet.
i hate the internet.
but thats where i am aren't i?
and so are you.