Empty homes, plastic cones, stolen rims, are they alloy or chrome? Well, I've got style, miles and miles, so much style it's wasted.

If you could not tell, I'm listening to Pavement . . . I have been since this morning. The kind of nonsensical soothing rumble of Stephen Malkmus's voice/lyrics puts everything in perspective. What I've figured so far from this enlightenment is that I've fallen into some sort of karmic abyss where everything awful and horrible I've done in my existence is coming back, rearing it's ugly head, and chopping me up slowly into the tiny bits of a human. In the span of seven weeks, I've broken my nose and a pair of eyeglasses, violated more traffic laws than I had the entirety of my life prior, dented both bumpers on my vehicle after being rear-ended by another car forcing me to slide into a lamppost (I think I've forgone mentioning that incident until now), paid for the overestimated damage to the lamppost mentioned prior, got my vehicle towed twice, had my workload doubled, got screwed over for a pay increase, and now my father's dying and my brother keeps calling me every hour because I'd be just the worst daughter in the world if I didn't make it a priority to fly to Seattle and see him before, well, the whole death thing. 

Anyways, I'm probably going to give in an fly out there, but it won't be for a couple of weeks, until the second week in March to be exact. I won't be able to get off work and such until then. It'll be spring break. Though I had planned to go to Baja California to meet with old friends during the break, I suppose I can withstand making a short detour to the north, before I visit the bright blue beaches of the south. 

Well. This might be a little off topic now, but I think I should add to this post that Stephen Malkmus is a total cutie-pie (I might as well put it out there) and his voice reminds me off the soft whining whir of laboratory equipment (what?). I saw him and the Jicks live back in October. It was a great show. He played spectacularly, as usual.