oh no. . .

this is probably the best I'm ever going to look. . .

. . . gulp.



Growing up is weird. I think it is strange that something about this time in my life makes me want to type my feelings every few seconds.

But then when I sit down at the computer, I have no clue what to type.

So. . . here is a list of things that are on my desk at this very moment in time:

1. one moolatte cup (empty).
2. one story (horribly depressing) which I have a write an essay (analytical) concerning.
3. one phone (cellular).
4. one rock (fake) for hiding a key (house) in.
5. one cup (ceramic) with a pencil (dixon ticonderoga) tied to it so the pencil (dixon ticonderoga) won't get taken away from the computer room.
6. one battery charger (unplugged).
7. one post-it note (no longer sticky) with "VWIVFX WINDSOR II" written on it. (I don't know what that means)
8. two cases of cds (blank).
9. one letter to my dad (Joe) from Kearny, New Jersey.
10. one left hand (mine).


I hope that the quality of one's life cannot be measured by the poetic nature of what is on one's desk.

I actually hope that the quality of one's life can be measured by the number of milkshakes one has had on a given day.

That would be nice . . . and I would be fat.


Love always,
jim.