What do I want to do for the next 59 minutes?
- Cry and apologize and get stuck in memories and eat without feeling bloated because obviously my anger and hostility comes from a little starving monster with sharp teeth that resides in my belly and prods me with a spear like the servant I am to it.
- Finally get good at guitar so I can try my hand at serenading because the virtual universe doesn't know about my lackluster singing career yet.
- Stop getting shut down.
- Hold Hercules.
What do I want to do in the next 47 minutes?
- Memorize this dance.
- Memorize stupid i-adjectives and na-adjectives and their conjugates.
- Stop shuddering.
- Reflect for a good minute about how to make my news release better.
- Spruce up my resume into something more than a blank sheet of paper.
What do I wish I could do in the next 46 minutes?
- Take a road trip.
- Scream.
- Finish every Wes Anderson movie (alone or not, preferably not, idkiywtwmsisdk).
- Feel skinny.
- Read the Screwtape Letters.
- Come up with another word-post for that blog that doesn't involve dumb emo poetry
- Not write dumb emo poetry as a derivative of some really good poetry
- Keep reading Shinji Moon's poetry.
- Make ramen and eat it.
- Be funny and nice and entertaining and likable and not like a guilty mistake that has to tread carefully because I'm on probation.
What have I done these past 20 minutes?
- Complain.
- Hope for the impossible.
- Forgot God existed.
- Nothing.
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