Perpetual Motion Machine

"We won't be sleeping in our own beds."

So, the girl I had previously mentioned, that i've taken a fancy to, has told me that because of how busy she is that we won't have a chance to hang out until after Christmas break. This proposes a big problem in the getting-to-know-you phase. But I guess i'll just wait it out. I'm not busy with anything else besides myself.I was telling her about the first time I met her at the Halloween party and she says she was too drunk too remember. Normally that would put me off, but I think it's kind of funny. I know she's not a dirty girl, so it's all just good times. Can you smell the teen spirit? Honestly, even if this does go nowhere, it is still nice being able to talk to someone new. Someone looking to be read, while reading. I just need a breath of fresh air, and she is like my own bottle of Febreeze right now.

Most of the people who read my blog knew me on Facebook beforehand. This is just to clarify why I deleted it, not that it is even a big deal. I wasted to much time on it. Searching for answers in bio's and status updates. I'm not really sure what most of that time on Facebook was really spent doing besides hitting the refresh button looking for some signs of human contact.

I think it was two days though i'm not sure, but two days ago I just decided it was time to just cut that tie. FaceBook is actually quite depressing. People exchange electronic pokes for whole-hearted hugs. Messages for good conversations. I know I only kept mine to look into my past and to get party invites.

Today is a monday. The last week before Christmas break. I'm not sure why but I stayed home today. Again. I woke up and hit the snooze button and stared out my window which lies on the wall in front of my bed. I do this everyday, waiting for a reason. Wether it come from me or the man in the reflection, I wait for a reason to get out of bed. Most days I don't seem to find it and my body goes into autopilot and drags itself around while I watch. Other days the reflection leaves the air empty and then no answer can be found. For anything. No answer as to why I should get up, no answer for why I keep pushing. Pretty much everything. But then again, that's why I like autopilot so much. You don't need a reason, so much as I come back to that bed and get to dreaming up the reasons i'll look for the next day. But I do just fine, really.

I get up, smoke a joint, grab my ipod and start walking. Its almost poetic. All I need is a camera to slowly pull out of focus as I walk down my long narrow roads while something plays, preferably some old Sinatra.