I'm not getting my boots.

BLURG. Apparently they were out when my roommate went to buy them.

I'm not getting anywhere on my paper. Probably because I haven't really started. err...

I need to do more work. at work. the worky kind of work.

I've made some tough decisions lately and I don't know how to deliver them to the right channels. sigh.

I'm not sick for about the first time in 4 months.

I'm going to buy some DKNY Pure perfume when I finish my paper. I buy myself too much stuff. I've realized I have a bit of a material problem. I actually think it's more of a "there isn't a boy to buy me this stuff. I'm buying it myself. Boom. Roasted." I don't know if that's a good attitude or a bad one.

I'm trying to be nicer. More nice.

I'm going to get a pair of thigh-high boots for Christmas. This makes me glad.

I love Thanksgiving. I don't think I've ever had a bad Thanksgiving. But good heavens, I've had horrible, awful, nightmare from hell, Christmases. We're going to Disneyland for Christmas this year. I haven't been out of town for Christmas since I was... 6? I remember getting Ariel pajamas and that we were in Boston. That's all I remember. Oh, and I got two chap sticks. They were Avon, and they both had elves on the labels. One was pink and gross. One was chocolate-ish and I loved it until the day I used it up. The chocolate one had a yellow label and the pink one had a blue label. Maybe that's where my extreme obsession with the color yellow started.

Oh yes. Back to awful Christmases. I would like Christmas from now on, starting at this, the age of 25, to be a wonderful thing. I'm tired of dreading Christmas because of the memories.

An update on the age thing: I'm okay being 25. It feels right, if that makes any sense.

want

http://www.amazon.com/UrbanEars-Plattan-Headphones-Yellow-Size/dp/B0030IZQIA/ref=sr_1_5?s=electronics&ie=UTF8&qid=1290113963&sr=1-5

unpoetic

Many of the posts I read appear to be the product of carefully worded prose, in very dramatically phrased verbage.

Yep, not gonna do that. And if I do it's unintentional. Maybe it's just part of my style... but I definitely do not write like that and it's not in my plan. So for searchers of pretty words, sorry- you're reading the wrong blog.

I was sitting at work yesterday, whining internally about how much I hated my present circumstances, and then said, "Shut up, Maren. Enough with the victim mentality." So I did. And the second half of work was tolerable.

It's birthday week. Therefore, I've been buying myself stuff every day. It's usually been coffee (so not swaying terribly from the norm), but I'm thinking today will be some teriyaki lunch and potentially some new clothes. You can't go out for birthday dinner without new clothes. I mean, come on.

I've taught Bekah to recognize platform shoes! I'm getting Jen and Bekah on the fashion kick.

Today I'm wearing my cashmere sweater with a perfectly matching shirt underneath (which, by the way, took about 3 months of constant searching to find). But it feels a little '90s and a little Liz Lemon, which makes me feel a little lesbian. Damn you, 30 Rock. Make those of us wearing v-neck sweaters with shirts underneath feel un-feminine.

Saturday marks 25. TWENTY FIVE. And yeah, I KNOW everybody says it's young and it's normal to be a little freaked out and it's normal not to have the perfect career and a loft and a husband. I don't really care that it's socially acceptable. I still don't like it. It's like telling someone with a huge nose that a lot of people have huge noses and they shouldn't be concerned or feel weird. It still feels weird to them. Twenty five still feels weird to me.

I've been at this job exactly two years. That's so strange. I'm considering writing my book about my occasionally absurd work experiences, mixed with the rest of my occasionally absurd life experiences. My typewriter still isn't exactly working, so I have a good excuse not to write it for now.

I have a fifteen page paper due in like 3 weeks for school, as well as a power point and a final. BLURG BLURG BLURG. When the hell am I going to get all this done? I genuinely have no freaking idea and it's freaking me out.

I had this bizarre notion that night school would be simple. Now I laugh at that train of thought. I definitely, definitely didn't know what I was about to tackle.

Welp, enough with the rambling. I officially proclaim a Happy Birthday to Me and a wtf to my life. And maybe they'll collide and it'll all work out. We'll see.

It happened today: I fell asleep at my desk. Not cool.

Considering these circumstances, I excused myself from the office for a while, parked in a giant, empty parking lot and took a nap. At 8:15 in the morning. It was strangely delightful.

Now it's almost 1 p.m. I need food.

It's time for a change.

A big change.

Don't know how it's going to look. Don't know exactly what's coming.

But it's time.

And I'm hopeful, for the first time in a really long time.