|Current mood:|| amused|
|Current music:||christmas music jingling through my head.|
Randomness and Rants
I feel like dancing and singing and kissing total strangers. At least, I did feel that way, now I'm a bit drowsy. I'm at work, waiting for something to do. I want to go home and sleep. I hate work. Whoever came up with the silly idea of work needs to be shot. Damn manic obsessive-compulsives had to ruin it for the rest of us. I am content with doing nothing, as long as I am enjoying it. I came to the conclusion that I would be perfectly and utterly happy never working, just sitting around and doing what I want to do---painting, knitting, writing, singing along to great music. ::Sigh:: I feel nostalgic. I feel like being all wistful and dreamy. I flutter between wanting to go to sleep forever and singing happy songs. Perhaps I'm delusional or delerious. Is that how you spell it delerious? Looks strange. And me a damned English major. Ha.
I wish I were a child again. I miss being young. I miss the innocence and imagination. I miss being able to control my life, my existence, my little world. I could be anyone I wanted to be, love anyone I wanted to love, and they'd love me too. I wish I could live out my little delusions and fantasies. Sometimes, those are all that I have.
I watched "Igby Goes Down" the other night. Fantastic movie. I enjoyed it and recommend it. I connected to the movie, I love Kieran Culkin. I heart independent movies, the off-beat, the seedy.
I am reminded of "Secretary" as I sit here. Yes, children, I have another movie to obsess over. "Fight Club" is still number one, but "Secretary" is a close second. I love the characters in that movie. Wish they were real. Wish I could find someone to connect to like Leigh found in her mister. ::sigh:: It's so dreamy in a perverse sort of way. I guess deep down inside, I am a hopeless romantic and a sucker for a good romance, as long as it strays from the norm.
One of my friends once asked me what I wanted in a lover or significant other. And I said: intelligence, loving, and they had to love me like I loved them. She asked if that were it. I elaborated a bit: a sense of humor, attractive, caring. But my ideas were shapeless, formless. No real substance. I suppose I don't know exactly what or who I want. I sometimes think, could I be with them? No, I seem to reply often. With my criteria as short as it is, you wouldn't think me so damn picky. But, I am.