Today was sort of weird. I sort of say that a lot, but I don't really want to specify, due to the public nature of posting things online and such, so you'll have to suck it up I guess.
Yesterday I got asked (for the first time, even) what I wanted for my birthday. At the time, I couldn't think of anything, which was sort of astonishing to me, because I always want stuff. I really should want stuff less. Usually, if I say I want something randomly, I don't really want it, it just looks cool at the moment. But sometimes, when I say I want something long enough, you know I actually do want it. Either way, I decided to come up with a list of things I actually would enjoy having, just because I can. Seriously though, when it gets down to it, there isn't much that I want. I'm not that materialistic, I don't think. I try not to be, at least.
Anyway. Birthday list:
A sewing machine
Knitting stuff is always a plus
I like hats
Any number of awesome CDs
Ummmmmm... sure, that'll cut it. There are always other things. Like that box with phantom power that I can plug in to my computer and record with. That would be neat. Or like that uber cute sweater at Target. Or like all the absurd amounts of cute earrings and rings. You can't go wrong with lotion, either. I love lotions. See? There's always more stuff. But it's just all stuff, you know? Like, it doesn't really matter. I don't care that much about getting stuff. If I didn't get anything at all I would survive and not be scarred for life, or even until my 18th birthday. If everyone were just happy and loved each other the way they're supposed to, it would be a better birthday than if I got every material thing I could ask for. Seriously. I don't say that to be cheesy, it's just the truth. *shrug*
Mayday Parade is sort of depressing and sort of lame sometimes, but sometimes, they're pretty cool. I decided that just now as I was listening to the emo depressing breakup song on their album. It's seriously a really sad breakup song.
It's cold down here. Why are basements always colder than the rest of the house? Grrrr.
Alright. Thus ends the blog post.