bitterdiva

Sonna Buonitch

There are days when I can't believe it's Friday and there are days when seven and a half hours seems like a fortnight. I am absolutely amazed at the fact that there hasn't been a slaughter at any of the places I existed in during this week.

The mood has been more foul than this month's Martha's Living - wait, that's fowl, not foul. More foul than that movie clip I saw where a decapitated corpse is holding his once attached head as he ate out some chick on a gurney.

Seasonal affective disorder rarily affects me, but I'm seeing the effects. Particularly when it's 57 degrees one day and blizzarding out the next. Monday brought hope and horniness when Tuesday brought depression but with the joy of getting let out of work at 1pm and no Eco-nommy. I should be thanking the snow gods for that present, but at the same time, it's almost the bloody middle of March and it feels like January.

The creative juices are flowing again though, which is a definite good sign. I'm not dead yet. I'm propositioning my acting classmates to partake in some future cinematic endeavors and thankfully, they've all seemed interested. There's a wealth of talent in that class, from a girl that did wardrobe for an actual zombie movie, to a hip-hop producer, to several men who have no shame but willing to take chances. I've been talking to them since last semester about getting a project going, but have been failing in the going. I also found out that there's a local filmmaking group that meets at HVCC, which I might join especially in the summer.

I must wake early and bake using my nanny's irish bread recipe. The entire apartment gets filled with the most delicious smell, it's a comfort smell. Any time there's a holiday, birthday, St. Patrick's day, I can find my mother in the kitchen baking the magical loaves. The smell soothes me like a security blanket. Since my olfactory sense is the strongest one I have, scents conjure up feelings and memories good or bad. Irish bread, apple pie, and dove soap are three that instantly come to mind when I think about what reminds me of my mom. Now, I just have to find out if Geiger can handle Irish bread or if I need to do it by hand.

01:46 AM

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