recession refugee

* trying to be clever i told someone at a party i was a “refugee of the failing economy“. they pointed out that my little phrase rhymed and suggested i write a song or a poem with an accompanying interpretive dance for it. i didn’t feel quite so clever anymore. effing hipsters.

* am toying with the idea of being mopey and depressed BUT the sight of my half completed purple manicure is making it hard to maintain low-buoyancy. even if i DID just spill ginger ale all the hell over my bed. which i can’t do anything about as i am incopasitated by aforementioned wet nails.

* in all the “secret to finding your true career parachute aha moment” books there is alot of  talk about looking to your childhood interests and what you wanted to be as a kid. my list, in no particular order, is as follows:  an artist, a novelist, a lounge singer or a pirate. or a thunder cat. i’m am not sure what that says about me — except i the fact that i am destined to never, ever have health care.

*there is no way out

she: …it would be so great if the government could get the student loan forgiveness thing going but that’s never going to happen. you literally have to die first.

me: help us obama!

she: screw that! I went back to school ‘coz obama said so and it did nothing for me. it’s bullshit.

me: i thought you picked a field you ultamately decided you didnt like?

she: don’t obscure the point with facts, K

there’s nothing to fear but ourselves.