Mantra for the day...

I don't give a shit. I don't give a shit. I don't give a shit.

It's just a stupid job at a bank.

Damn brain

I keep thinking about Ivana. I wish I wouldn't. After months of her retreating away from what started out so well I should just smarten up and let it go. But I still want it to be her when the phone rings. I still want to buy flowers for her when I walk through the market on the way home. What the hell is up with that? It's like there is this emotionally masochistic part of me that doesn't seem to want to stop flogging this particular dead horse.

Craptastic

What an annoying day. I can't wait to meet Brenda at the pub and bitch away my angst over a few pints Guinness.