This town is bogging me down. I got to get out, get out right now.

I am not a city girl, neither am I a tough&rough girl. I don't do camping. I don't like dirt in my fingernails. At the same time, I don't like manicure. I don't paint my fingernails, either. You know, come to think of it? This is probably as "middle-road" as I will ever get. Wow, I'm amazed at myself.

I want to do something wild and crazy. Pick up a one-night-stand and move to Montana, or Alaska. I heard that there are 3 guys to every girl, up north. If I work it, maybe I can have my own harem.

I want to do some painting. How long has it been since I stretched my own canvas? This is one of my 2006 New-Year-Solution thingamajig. I will get my hands dirty, get paints under my fingernails and get my skin burn by thinner.

There's another thing, I swear like a sailor. This is not lady-like at all. This coming new year, I will swear, like a proper lady and not like a mangy smelly uncivilized pirates!

And censorship, Sweet Jesus, censor your mouth for a minute. The "if you think it, say it" is nothing but a theory, a hypothesis that's been proven wrong.

I want to do more traveling, going places. My left baby-toe twitches with interest whenever I think of going anywhere outside of the mundane. Even the thought of going to a Saturday open-market down the street from my house gets me all warm and fuzzy. Yes, it's that bad.

I'm debating doing laundry; maybe today, maybe tomorrow.
Procrastination, thy name is Whitney.