iceinyourmusic | regularly scheduled spring panic

This is me, wanting to grab the world by the throat and throttle and yell: Amuse me!

This is me, maybe. I gotta shake the habit of posting and then deleting. Because it's lame.

But, what glorious weather today, oh. One really should have been out there frolicking in a field of daisies; I was here, feeling the mighty ANGST of all the postponed workload crashing down on me and killing me dead, except it's nowhere near that merciful, and there's more in the way of regret and weaseling and distraction. Regret is purple. Regret is slimy. Regret is the shape of a blimp gone wrong in the sky, but it's all too late all the same.

Oh, baby, baby. How was I supposed to. Yeah, you know what? I accidentally referred to the lj as "my writing" the other day - ahaha - and landed straight on my ass from the pretentiousness of it, but the fact is that, to some extent, it is true. maybe. caveat: by admitting this, you may risk undermining believability of future statements along the lines of "I coulda been a contender".

Here be dragons.

Here be nothing but.