why am i such a fuckhead

I am twenty-three years old and my mother cleaned my room while I was at work.  It looks really good...but that's twenty-three going on twenty-four, you know?  Oh, well.  It's true what they say about a cluttered room and a cluttered mind.  I feel so relaxed, now...in my room that my mother cleaned for me.

It hit me the other day that I went to a "good university" (not that it means much nowadays) and I work in a place where there are literally mentally retarded people who make more money than I do.

I also realized while looking in the mirror that I have Sarah Palin hair + Nelson Mandela glasses.  I look like a demented, Filipino cross between the two...but with a giant (seriously) pimple on my nose.  Again: twenty-three years old. My sebaceous glands have gone rogue.  It has sort of turned into an experiment.  I have never had a pimple that hasn't accidentally popped prematurely...what will happen to this one? If it doesn't pop, where does it go? How long will it be on my face?  I'm glad I'm not a teenager anymore--things like pimples or hanging out with my parents no longer embarrass me.  I don't bother trying to cover up my blemishes with makeup.  I like to think that they're humanizing.  In the Philippines they say you get pimples when you're in love.

theory of relativity

I have eczema.  Ergo, I am errantly scratching at some part of my body pretty much constantly.  Somebody once called me "Scratchy", which confused me until I realized that I basically see my own actions from the opposite perspective.  For me, "always scratching" is more like "always itchy."  Weird how things are seen so differently from the outside versus the inside.