Don’t look now but I’m writing in my blog again. Had a sleep relapse. Yes I am a sleep addict. I have been since I was a baby, I think. My mom tells me stories of having to periodically check my breathing as I slept as a baby because I would sleep for so long.

I feel strange because I didn’t work much this week. I did a lot of work but I didn’t physically go to a job and check in and stay there and not be able to do what I wanted for 4 or 8 or 10 or 20 hours. I guess it’s something that I have to reprogram in Promobot. Or rather, I need to program a relaxation mode. I feel guilty doing anything considered relaxation or nonproductive. I have to justify everything I do with having a purpose, like I’m listening to music so I can do chores or washing my hair so it can look good for work or eating so I can nourish my body or deal with emotions.

Right now I feel guilty for not having work lined up. I’m also nervous because I had a phone interview for a Promobot longterm gig that I really would love because it’s for a client I really love. I haven’t heard back from the staffing agency though about scheduling so I’m nervous. I know I’m perfect for the job and there’s no reason I should worry about not having it, but I need the confirmation. Too many times I’ve been told I had something only to have it taken away and never given to me. So I know better than to get excited until it’s 100% confirmed in my hands.

I’m hardcore judging everything I’m writing right now. It feels like I don’t deserve to write and put it on the webs unless it’s 100% thrilling, relevant and interesting content. It’s weird how there are no rules for the Internet yet it seems we all are following rules of some sort.

Fuck it though, I’m just gonna keep using this as a very public platform to write my diary.

I’ve kept diaries, on and off, since 1st grade. In first grade we were all assigned journals to write in daily. Back then I used to make everything up. I thought my real life was too boring so I would make up things. One of the tallest tales I remember writing was about witnessing a police shooting from my window. I illustrated it and everything. Truth is, I had only heard this story happened in my neighborhood. So it was a second hand account, I guess it wasn’t that much of a tall tale except I definitely have never seen anyone get shot and especially didn’t in the 1st grade.

Maybe I’ve always wanted to be a journalist. It seems the only news I’ve ever known how to report is news about myself… and entertainment news.

There are a few movies I want to see but it all depends on which friend comes thru.

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