Wheels Turning Round and Round

"She's sweeter than all the girls and I've met quite a few." --the Beatles

"You are The Stiletto, of all types, the most likely to be a dominatrix and the least likely to apologize." --OKC

"I guess it's time for me again to mention the wordplay." --Jason Mraz

I KNOW the colours are bad.

I know that for a comeback-esque or "return to Diaryland" theme, this is not the best. I know that shades of grey are not the most attractive way to say HI THERE READ ME I LOVE YOU. Or even "I think I have something to say" again. But you will have to bear with me. This is an exceptionally clean layout and I am not an exceptionally clean person. Regardless, I feel we fit. Work with me here.

It has not been a terribly eventful semester. It has been a semester. If you've been wondering, my diary hasn't gone inactive because I regularly log in to spy on everyone else. Spy spy spy with no adequate return production. I felt guilty. I even opened a secret LiveJournal and wrote in it once or twice. No one uses Diaryland; even the much loved Spritopias is considering devoting to his much sassier layed out domain. I let my Gold Membership expire. Dland is dying for me; it's been over four years since I was first intrduced to this wildly loyal, beastly addiction. It has been less than that since the Dland phenomenon ripped through my high school, allowing my friends and I a secret peak into the world of those we usually could peep on only in the hallways.

There are no more hallways, and there is no one to look into. Grownups have blogs, grownups whine about politics and muse about their spouses and their children. Grownups gossip on the phone and over coffee, not on the clickity clackity medium of instant messanger. Grownups look for one another on Craigslist (I know I will never, ever be anyone's Missed Connection as I am not even close to being that hip, but I continue to venture into public and hope that someone missed me), at work, at the gym. I, however, still have problems making eye contact with grownups, let alone talk to them.

Here is the short version: I am, however, employed. Gainfully employed. Well enough employed that I have my own apartment, my own roommate, my own own public transportation inspired commute schedule. I have a budget (which I don't abide by), friends I play boardgames with, and a softball team. I suck, really fucking hard. I have a boy that I like, a red themed bathroom, a new favourite Jason Mraz song, and that Proactiv system that I bought after watching an infomercial. I have a walk in closet, a vibrator, a mess (unrealted), and a matt of fast-shedding (I'm concerned at the rate I'm losing my hair) half black half brown hair, a birthday coming up, and a nice Buzznet following.

I also have a sink of dirty dishes I need to do, a cold, and an early morning rise and shine to make tomorrow's debut on the rocking streets of Arlington, VA.

But now I too, have Dland.