Procrastination Station.

I got up and ready early with strict mental instructions that today I was going to get things done! So far I've only managed to cross off actually removing myself from my bed, dragging myself to a cafe and sitting here with my pal Vonnegut. Honestly, pathetic effort!

Things that I actually planned on doing today-

Hunting for cheap acrylic paints.
New York is lovely because everything is close and easy to's not so lovely in that everything is fancy and expensive. 

Finding a new journal/notebook.
I spend 94% of my day just writing things down. Lists, reminders, notes, goals, dreams ect because of this and the fact that I'm exceptionally good at losing things, I need a new notebook. My current one is one I'm almost positive I stole from my youngest brother on accident, and I say "almost positive" because it says property of Declan Turner on the bad. 

I hate the gym, mainly because I hate creepy men and brolic assholes, and that is who seems to adore the gym. But I have come to really like running outside! Preferably when it's dusk and slightly raining...I'm picky. 

Going to my school to swear at the lady in the Student Services office.
It's honestly becoming one of my favorite past times at this point.

Finding a new perfume.
Whenever I end a relationship with a boy I always have to buy a new perfume due my to memory being so closely connected to my sense of smell. Some of my favorite scents have been ruined by this very thing! Flowerbomb? Ruined by a rapper. DKNY Golden Delicious? A cop.  Burberry London? A Slovakian. It's time for Marc Jacobs Honey to walk that same lonely road to forgotten. 

Getting passport photos taken.
It's a good thing I decided to just not do anything with my hair today. 

Hunting for a new memoir.
I recently finished Her by Christa Parravani and I loved it, it's essentially a story of a girl (Christa...duh) who loses her twin sister after battle of depression and drugs and how she copes going from a bonded duo to a singular being. Memoirs are my absolute favorite type of book from light hearted more comedic ones (a'la Bossy Pants by Tina Fey) to the more intense and raw (a'la The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby). 

Writing at least another 20 pages of my book.
It's a love hate thing. When it's 3am in the morning and I'm exhaustedly tired, I can type away like there is no tomorrow. When I'm wide awake, fed and happy? Crickets I tell you.

Things I'm probably going to end up doing-

Sitting here for the next couple of hours? Before relocating to possibly my bed, possibly my friends bed or possibly happy hour.

I'm the worst.

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