My last post was about not being happy, but now I am happy, but I don't want to share why I'm happy because somewhere in the definition of Stupid resides my thought process and while I both know and have proof of this, you don't. And I would very much rather it stay that way.

Sometimes I wonder how different my life might be if I were the kind of girl who bought coffee for others with her own change and said hello to everyone in the office as she passed, instead of the girl who laughs at the woman with the sticker on her behind and regularly formulates the demise of others.

People ask how the new job is going and I respond 'It's not wretched'. It isn't wretched. Sometimes it's even really nice. Still, it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life, which is good since it means I still have an iota of ambition that university failed to kill. But I am so lost. I don't know what I want to do. Or rather, what I can do. I know what I want to do. I want to wake up at noon every day and fall asleep to the sound of Paul Walker's voice reading me bedtime stories.

So, as I am wont to do when we're on the phone and have exhausted all the major topics, yet no one is quite prepared to hang up, I'm going to sigh, 'I don't know, I don't know' into the silence, and hope that somehow a new idea starts from there.

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