isolation and sexy music

by A.

> Gwen Stefani – Crash
> Gwen Stefani – Rich Girl (feat. Eve)
> Gwen Stefani – What You Waiting For?
> Nine Inch Nails – The Fragile

I hate how needy I am. But then again I am normally not like this, I usually have work and school to distract me. This long weekend is the Sunday ennui hell that never ends. I just downloaded the new Gwen Stefani album from the iTunes music store (not really, although it would be cool to). I did download and install iTunes, I’m trying out using it as my main music player, in preparation for getting an iPod Shuffle. I’m liking it so far. Joe deactivated my firewall when he came over, so torrents have been going really fast. I’m enjoying this flirt with the seedy and dangerous world of having my firewall down to get all of this incredible content. It’s like a hot, spontaneous condomless fuck. I hope I don’t get a virus.

I’m really loving this Gwen Stefani CD, I want to get up and dance so bad but my back is killing me. I’ve decided to call my new boyfriend Tom Ripley, as homage to one of my favorite movies. The tortured character of Ripley really fits his personality. I talked to him earlier today and he didn’t really say much. Maybe he doesn’t love me anymore. What is that cliché? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, something like that. Maybe he’s just not a phone person. I’m going to his house after work tomorrow, I hope it’s like we were a few days ago.

My mouse wrist is killing me, I left my ergonomic mouse at work on Friday. I’m not going to finish this database unless I take extensive breaks tomorrow. I guess I could just leave at my normal time and then come back in an hour or so if my wrists hurt.

Holy fuck. Its 1:27 a.m.

I guess I’m the needy bitch that I despise in other people. I need to channel Taggart. I need to be beautiful. I need to be emotionally unavailable. I need to be strong. Untouchable. I need to have deep pain. But I don’t. I’m too much of a pansy to cut myself, and when you don’t believe anything means anything, it’s downright hard to feel deeply enough about something to hurt yourself. How does one go about faking scars?

I haven’t felt very many emotions. I’m jealous of those who have. I guess that’s why I’m so needy. I need to feel something… anything. I wish I could convince myself that the world mattered and that there was a reason to fight and cry and strive to succeed and struggle, but there isn’t. I’m convinced to fight for love because of greeting card commercials and jejune movies.

I’m a product. Ripley needs to fix me. To turn me into a person again. To make me believe in free will. To sing Heisenberg’s praises. To make me forget about all of this horrid fatalism. To make me believe that my life is meaningful. To hold me in his arms and tell me everything is going to be all right.

Sometimes it’s just that nothing seems worth saving
Please don’t let me fall apart.