I haven't shaved in at least a week. It looks horrible. I can't and will never be able to grow any sort of facial hair. I look like a sixteen year old who is trying to grow a mustache. I look like I ate a chocolate bar and wiped my face with hot, sticky, chocolate covered fingers. I don't feel like shaving. I don't have any reason to right now. I spend my days at work and evenings at my mom's house. Susan is getting back into town tomorrow so I'll be leaving. I have to move into my new apartment. I need to talk to my dad about using his vehicle. I need to pack. It seems that each time I've been moving recently I've been grossly underprepared. I am surprised at the speed with which I found an apartment. Since that day I've spent the majority of my time at my mom's house taking care of Tally. This weekend is basically do or die time to move. I think I'll choose do.

I took Tally to doggie daycare today. When I went to pick her up after work I was greeted coolly by the person working there (he wasn't there this morning). I understand that they need to know if I'm really authorized to pick up the dog but I don't understand rudeness. At least he apologized for the questions. Not for being rude though. I got the dog so it isn't a big deal.

I got home from work late yesterday. I was planning on going to Rogue for trivia night but instead chose to go see "The Ring" with Stephanie. I'm glad I didn't go out drinking but that movie freaked me out. I don't like scary movies very much. They are either too stupid to get into, or I get too into them. Unfortunately, I got too into this movie. At one point during the screening I noticed that I was biting my nails. I never bite my nails. At another point I was so on edge that if someone were to tap me on the shoulder from behind, I would have jumped with fright. When I got home, I opened the garage fast and got out of the car even faster. But I'd left some frozen food in the car and I had to retrieve it. The garage is separate from the house and it is dark. The street is dark. I seriously considered leaving the food in the car. I didn't. I ran to the car, grabbed the food, threw the garage door shut and ran back into the house locking the door behind me. I slept with the hall light on and made sure the radio would play until I was fast asleep. I still dreamed about the movie. I don't enjoy that feeling of nerviousness. So even though I was scared by the movie, I didn't like it. I stick by my original feeling about horror movies; they are either too stupid to get into, or I get into them too much. That is a genre that I can do without getting into.

I had an icq conversation with Stephanie this morning about creativity and substance use. It spurred from something inconsiquential but I ran with the idea. It is something that I think about from time to time. I can't stand it when anyone remarks, "I wonder what he/she/they was/were on when they thought of that!" It is one of the dumbest phrases I've ever heard yet I constantly hear it.

Tolkien must have been on some serious drugs, how else could he come up with that stuff?

What stuff? The bathing song? The long descriptions of hobit culture? The map of Middle Earth? Oh, right, the mushrooms and pipe weed. Wow, that's some trippy shit. Shut up.

I understand that plenty of creative people use mood altering substances. I guess what really bugs me is when people assume that something that is remotely surreal is automatically attributed do drug use. Or that drugs/alcohol/whatever make a person creative. There are plenty of people who use tons of drugs and don't create a thing. There are plenty of people who create and don't use drugs. OK, enough of this. It is too infuriating. I take the subject personally because I've heard the phrase "what were you on?" more than once. I'll tell you what I was on; nothing. People can create without drugs and for someone to think otherwise just betrays him as ignorant at best and stupid as shit at worst.

So, Gentle Reader, if you are one who utters that phrase, maybe you are mad about what I say but probably not. Hopefully you'll think about it and hold your tongue the next time you are about to utter that phrase.

If, Gentle Reader, you are one who uses drugs, in conjunction with creativity or not, don't be offended by what I say. I'm certainly not attacking drug use or claiming that it can have no role in the creative process. Use drugs. Write, draw, paint, whatever while you do. That's fine. I just can't stand that phrase, "I wonder what he was on when he came up with that."

This is something I could easily return to. I feel almost like writing an essay. Almost.

PS -- Next Wednesday is my 23rd birthday. Whoopee.

PPS -- I like saying "later, skater," but have found that it gets redundant. Months ago I tried coming up with goodbyes that rhyme, my favorite being "later, masturbator." This morning I came up with "later, vibrator." Any ideas?

PPPS -- I'm hella bored.