I just lost my drain of thought

There have already been ups and downs of summer. Ups: Smallvilles, like OMGerz. Beach! Being far away from Evil One. Oceans 13. Seeing friendlies. Patches getting better. Crazy professor at PCC. Not horrible grades. Downs: Smallville finale, AGHH. Sunburns!! Messy room. Patches getting surgery because of an abcess. Heat. Stupid pants party that took forever that I sat out on. Sitting in an oven of a car because of paranoia. Realizing that I should go somewhere indoors a couple hours into baking in that car. Computer being a bunghole because I probably screwed it up during finals week. Work. Was a few points off from the next grade up for ESS9.

I never did look into working at WaMu. Perhaps it is too late. I don’t know if they have part time jobs, though. I still need to go there to fix my account too. Bah. Speaking of fixing accounts. Anyone ever get that Scholarshare thing in high school? They’re cheating me out of 1000 bucks. Those hos. I’m going to fight for my monies! Roarrr.

I only like blogging when I am on my own computer but Drew Jr. is being an a-hole so I never turn it on anymore; therefore, I do not blog. I might have to reformat and I have the chance to now that my sister got her crazy new external harddrive. YEEAHH. A couple weeks ago I had a hankerin’ for a new flash drive that I could tote around that would be able to fit most of my computer’s junks. Unfortunately, it is thousands of dollars. Thousands of dollars that I do not have and probably never will within the next ten years due to debts and out-of-control shopping due to depression from debts, which will in turn cause more debt. That’s what money does to people. Makes them sad. So does global warming. It’s too hot.

I’ve been in such a weird mood. Maybe it was that whole shutting off of the brain and then jumping into summer school the next week. And going out. Unlike some, I like sitting at home with nothing in particular to do. But really, I do have things to do. I knit to avoid cleaning. I clean to try to feel better. But sometimes I get sad because I can’t figure out where to put anything. I’m such a packrat. Bahhh.

I want a job where I don’t hate everything I look at. Everyone who goes in there looks exactly the same because we sell that look to them. Because the CEO, Mr. Scary Old Guy with Cheek Implants, thinks youth is defined by that one look. I guess I’m just feeling kind of bummy. Don’t mind me.