Before you do that, get thee to a bookstore or library get yourself a copy of Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club".

Go on, go.

Now, perhaps, if you have experienced one or both of these things, you might understand why I don't feel much like a "beautiful and unique snowflake" right now.

(Even though two of the stockroom guys and one of the electronics guys were very impressed that I was indeed reading "Fight Club" yesterday in the breakroom. Now I'm the bookish, yet cool chick that reads cool things. But anyway.)

Yeah. Do you ever get the feeling that it doesn't really matter? Run to the bus stop. Get on the bus with other dismal people filling out the prescripted roles of their dismal lives: work, home, work, home, on and on. Go to a stupid job, go home, sit and do nothing, go to bed. Do it all again the next day. Invisible. Whatever. And yet I have no right to complain about my stupid little life, and the stupid things that I think matter. Of course, there is a war going on, in which there are kids younger than me fighting. On both sides.

Don't want to talk about that though.

Yeah, yeah, I had good things and I threw them away. Or let them sit in a pile of junk of my desk. Or let them collect dust on a shelf. All mere obstacles along my path to this temporary reality. What am I now? A "consultative selling associate", and a mediocre one at that, in the footwear department in one retail branch of a very large department store chain. The Sears tower is what, the largest building in the country? What does that make me, an ant crawling around on the sidewalk in front of it?

A very tiny ant. Drowned by the water contained in one falling snowflake. Like my twin selves converging at one hopeless point.

(Because see, when I was a snowflake I practiced flute for two or three hours almost every day and I went to concerts and recitals and I played in concerts and recitals and I was almost good and maybe things mattered? Or so I thought.)

Just like "Fight Club"!

Damn. Exercise caution before you read that book, really.

What a dope I am. I hate it when I feel the need to write this garbage. Go read my last entry if you'd like. It was much funnier and sillier. Please please please disregard this bullshit if you wish me to conform to some pre-conceived notion of me being a silly, geeky, irreverant goofball.

Blargh. I feel a Monday coming on. On a lighter note, seriously though, why doesn't March Madness end in March? March is over. SO STOP THE FUCKING MADNESS.

Ok, that's enough. Goodnight.

**************

"You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile." -page 134

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