things could get dangerous

I’m bored. Things could get dangerous.

This ain’t even random thoughts, man. It’s boredom thoughts. 

I am so fuuuucking bored. 

Nothing is piercing the boredom right now. It’s just there. Always lurking and waiting to drag me into spending four hours editing a story that’s as good as it’s going to get or rewatching Hit The Floor. 

Speaking of television, Hit The Floor is not the kind of high brow show that deserves a rewatch (if you’re so inclined, I have a recap of it here) but you know what, it kept me entertained and sort of dug me out of a weird spot that I was in last week. I know that I can count of that show to get me out of a funk. It’s that ridiculous. 

Anyway, usually I watch a show over a few weeks, something to keep my brain juices flowing and myself entertained. 

Usually, I like to watch shows that have a few seasons or at least a complete season.

So, I tried The Wire. Bored me to tears. I’m not saying that it sucks but I think I just need trashy TV at the moment because when I moved onto House, that was even worse. It sent me to sleep. So from there I somehow circled back to Hit The Floor. I also watched an episode of Narcos, and an episode of Dear White People. The former was interesting, the latter will hopefully get better. 

Now I’m seriously at Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica levels of desperation. That’s the stage before I say fuck it and go back to VH1’s reality line up. The Real Housewives are still on pause because there’s only so much I can take. Fake cancer? Bye. Bye forever. Or until I come crawling back. 

If you’re too young to know what Newlyweds is, then well, it’s for the best. I was a kid myself when this was on and never really saw it properly so I’m looking forward to it. Truly I am. 

Anyway, today was somewhat productive. I washed my hair. I tidied my shit. I CLEANED VOLUNTARILY. That’s productive squared. I still feel really antsy, though, like I’m just wasting my life.

Washing my hair was hardly going to change that, but still I had hoped. 

Writing. Oh, writing. I was working on my original story again. I’ve been writing it for more than a year and it’s still a pitiful seven thousand words. I wrote three thousand words on Hit The Floor in a day or two. Why can’t I write my damn story? Well, I can. I’ve written much more since I began the original story but for some reason it’s just not flowing. I think maybe my main character is too much like myself. I need to change her up a little. Make her an Nysnc fan who loves Harry Potter and old movies. The complete opposite of me. I’m a Backstreet Boys girl and I like modern movies where things get blown up. I’m uncultured, I know. 

I might just write a Bob clone into my story for laughs. The actual story is super depressing (which is probably the issue) so I’m going to throw in some comic relief. I might even throw in a line about peaches.

….Or not. Definitely not. 

Anyway, that’s all for now, folks. 


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