Here I sit, eating my supper: a peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jelly-on-wheat, fried green tomatoes, baked cool ranch Doritos, and a Coca-Cola. There's a story to all of it. I cut my finger slicing the tomatoes, the first batch of which I burned because I had the stove turned up too high. There's no problem with the Doritos, actually. They're somewhat Holly-inspired, and it's a good thing I'm not kissing anyone, right? I'm dining on the PB & J because as I brought my turkey sandwich to my mouth, I realized where the foul odor was coming from. I'll be returning my Oscar Mayer (any relation?) smoked turkey to WalMart here in a bit. Should've stuck with the deli. Ah, and it has just been brought to my attention that the can of Coke that Dad felt the need to buy me yesterday at Kuttawa has snowflakes, Santa, and "Holiday 2003" in the design. Is it just me, or is it June 2004? It is a lovely meal. Really.
After class, I drove around Murray looking for Kentucky Changers. After about an hour and a half of searching the streets for blue porta-potties, I gave up. I was able to find about five work sites, and I stopped at two. One of which did have a few kids from Poole. The other didn't. Exciting times. Eh.
I then went to my "second interview" at Ryan's with Drug-Lord Brad. Somehow, I feel like the brakes have been put on my waitressing career. I did more job hunting and application getting today. Maybe I could just collect those like baseball cards, and one day when I'm unemployed and starving, I can get an estimate of their worth on the Antique Roadshow. Then I'll go about the world trying to sell my illustrious collection of job applications, and when they're finally sold, I'll be a millionaire. You think that's crazy? Well, it's probably more likely than me finding a job.
But enough of my complaining.
You know, I was thinking. A blog is very unrepresentative of the life of the blogger. There are several people's blogs that I read, and I have never met the person. The only means of my "knowing" them is through what they type on their online publication. And every now and then, I feel like I know them. But how untrue. If someone only knew me through my blog, they sure wouldn't know much. There is so much more that goes on in my life and in my mind than what I put on this thing. By reading this, you don't see much of what makes me me. Some things are too trivial to share. Some are too personal. Some, I just don't feel the need. Do not be mistaken, however. I do believe that writing bares the soul. But some days, like today, I choose not to.