I went to a beach party lastnight. My friend Katie threw it. I had fun, I was drunk, but it was kinda weird. Katie has a lot of friends I don’t like, and there was tension when this girl Vanessa tried to get everyone to be quiet… but for the most part I just did my own thing, talked to Chris and Tessa and Alisha, and just chilled out.

Everyone had to wear tropical clothes. I wore this tye-dyed dress, then changed into shorts, then pants. Fuck it, I’m too self-conscious in shorts. And in the dress I had to check how I was sitting, since it was a short skirt. Oh well.

Greg and I got in a fight. Well, not really, but I got mad at him. I was on the phone with him, and I was trying to ask him if Ryan and him were coming back to Katie’s. I guess I cut him off because he said, “Umm no I was talking, and when I’m done my sentence, then you can speak.” I got mad (I was drunk) and hung up on him. He called back but someone else got the phone and I didn’t want to talk.

Later, at like 4am when Ryan and Greg actually did come back, we made up and drank more and passed out. It was nice. Ryan had to leave continuously because he’s allergic to cats and Katie has three.

Anyways, that’s my story. Nothing exciting, actually mainly because I don’t really have the energy right now. Later.

For 30 minutes, just now, I sat with my cats. But not only did I sit with my cats, but I understood them.

I have four. Of those four, three were in my living room, doing their thing, playing, cleaning, and exploring a new cat bed I brought home. So I sat down.

It’s kinda cool you know… when you understand your pets. They respect you more too I think, because they know you understand them.

And so I sat, for half an hour, watching them look at each other and randomly fall asleep and then wake up again, enjoy the sunlight from the window, cuddle, meow. It was nice, I never really noticed if my cats were happy or not but now I believe they are. Not just content but quite happy animals.

Aww. I’m glad.

I have 14 minutes to write this. My brother will then overtake the computer and I will dissapear into oblivion until I am able to be in his room again.

He has a $50 bill on his desk. I want a $50 bill. I’d like to be rich and not worry about money at all… one less worry.

My biography sucks. The picture’s cool, I like it a lot. What I wrote is shitty. It’s all true too, or was true of my mood at the time that I wrote it. Right now I hate it. HATE.

I’ve read everyone’s posts. Very nice. I don’t sleep either. But I don’t have a computer to complain to, unfortuneately. I’m fucking tired right now but I know I won’t go to sleep for at least 4 or 5 hours. When I sleep though, I sleep for hours.

I don’t dream though. Sometimes. Then it’s bad dreams and I wake up freaking out.

I don’t want to talk about that anymore. Dammit.

I have 8 minutes. Time went by fast… what the fuck was I doing, staring off into space? Probably. I’m thinking. There’s too many things to think about. You’re all thinking the same things. Relationships, sex, work, sleep, food, peeing. Whatever.

I have 4 minutes. I’m preoccupied I guess. I have more to say, but no time. Damn, well I guess I’ll wait. So will you.

Fuck it.

Man, I know all about stealing… my fridge if full of chocolate thunder cake, Treetop applejuice, lactaid milk, etc. etc. Thanks for the advice. I know Starbucks isn’t too bad a job… I have full benefits and stock, whatever. That’s not the point. It’s not about the actual job, it’s about the bullshit that goes along with it. I know that bullshit is in every job, but still, you know what I mean. I assume you’re a customer? All the power to ya, and god help you if you’re not polite to whoever serves you man - only those people get gross milk and expired coffee. Everyone else gets quality.

Let’s not talk about Starbucks anymore.

Starbucks has officially defined the world. Think about it. Everyone has an opinion on it, even YOU. You either like it or hate it or think it’s too expensive, or it’s a nice place to relax. You’ve never tried it or you go there everyday, it doesn’t really matter. The point is that you KNOW about it and you have an opinion on it, whether it’s neutral or not.

I work for Starbucks you see. I’m a barista. Greg is too, and so is Buck’s brother. (Uh oh should I have divulged this information about fellow writers? Ahh they’ll get over it.) Anyways, I think I hate it. I’ve been trying to go to work lately with the attitude that I’m here to serve people this addiction of theirs. I don’t question it, I don’t condemn it, I just listen to them, smile, accept my tips and continue. It works that way you know, but it’s leaving me unsatisfied. I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve been there for one year, 4 months, and 8 days. I unfortuneately know that too. Everyone I know has quit and come back again, like their dependant on it. Does that mean I’m destined to stay there forever? I think I’d kill myself.

I know some people that are stuck there forever though. It’s sad really. My manager is. Greg is. I guess it’s good for some people then, that addiction, but not me. So if anyone knows of a job that makes decent money and isn’t too horrible, let me know please.

Well readers… as I’m not sure how this works, I’m just throwin a blank here so sorry if it sucks. When I read that Ryan wanted writers for his new website design, I quickly volunteered and actually insisted to him that I could do it well. Not getting on the internet all too often is a slight problem for me I suppose, but I guess that means all the more insight when I actually do come around. Who reads this Epiphany anyways? Because I know Ryan in person, living two towns over and all. It’s my brother’s computer. Mine’s broken and I just returned the modem to Rogers the other day. So I get here to check emails, etc., when he gives me permission. Ryan said to write SOMETHING just to make sure I have something on here. Yay, now I did. I guess… more later? Yeah why not.