For the Widows in Paradise.

Walking around campus with Sufjan Stevens in your ears is an odd sensation.  It's like, life is as normal and boring as always when I'm looking at all those people with their panicked Finals Faces on, but the soundtrack makes me think something is about to happen.  Like I'm that girl in one of those coming of age indie films who has some crazy emotional breakdown followed by a crazy emotional love scene followed by more things that are both crazy and emotional, but relatable.. you know?  Anyway, that's not the case.  I was really just on my way to fail my last math test before failing my math final.  Anticlimactic.

So, here's my problem with blogging:  I work in an office.

I'm not talking about one of those really fun offices with cute salesmen and an annoying but loveable boss and supply room hookups.  I work in office made up entirely of bitter, middle-aged divorcees.  I do payroll for a living.  That's 40 hours a week right off the top that are completely unbloggable.  Today an employee called in because he thought we miscalculated his hours.  I explained to him why he was wrong.  He swore at me and hung up.  There is no way to make that interesting.  Other than that, I go to school.  Then I drink.  Blogging is for people with interesting lives.  Or at the very least, people who tell interesting stories.  I am neither of those people, I'm afraid.  I'm making an effort to become one, though.

Luckily, I have the cutest dog that has ever even thought about existing. 
Who needs words with a face like this?

I want the things I put here to mean something, eventually.  I just need to warm up to it.  Is it weird to need to learn to trust a blog?

I'm going to Memphis to drown in some awesome blues music this weekend.  Hopefully I will have collected some thoughts worth sharing by the time I return.  I will have definitely collected a hangover.