Friday, July 9, 2010

I wish you wouldn't read this blog post... It doesn't really go anywhere.

I wish I was the kind of girl who would just wear blue jeans and ballet flats. It would save me from fussing about with a knitted cape, rabbit fur and suspenders when I'm already supposed to be at the tram stop.

I wish I wasn't dreamy so I could stop following this idea about being a writer, and actually use my degree in psychology to do "something".

I wish I wasn't so bloody hard to live with, then I wouldn't have to pay close to a grand every month just to live in a shiny box by myself.

I wish I wasn't such a feminist, that way I wouldn't feel like I'm reversing years of gender equality struggles when my boyfriend drives me home or attempts to pay for dinner.

I wish I didn't use the fact that my surname is the chemical name equivalent of carbs as a reason for eating excessive quantities of bread. Because then my weight might not fluctuate from 55kg to 65kg every year.

I wish I didn't only date ridiculously good looking and charming musicians and artists all the time, because it would save a lot of jealousy every time a girl embarrassingly tries to hit on my lover.

I wish I wasn't ambitious, that way I would actually take care of my body and take myself to a doctor when I have food poisoning, instead of banging out 4000 words worth of articles at two in the morning with frequent vomit trips to the toilet.

I wish I didn't get offended and disappointed by practically everything that anyone does, because then I might actually have a best friend and not just a bunch of acquaintances and odd friends.

I wish I didn't write such random blog posts at one in the morning, when I should be either sleeping because I have work in the morning, or writing up this damn gig review that I'm procrastinating over.

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