Because I'd rather not open a word document for personal use at work and accidentally have it open for people I don't want to have it open for, I settled for the empty days of my planner and the illusion
that I was furiously making plans all day. The ample amount of writing space available in each month was depressing in itself, though. "Look at all the days I apparently did nothing and had no plans--plenty of room to write some melodramtic stuff I think is wonderful right now but come Thursday I'll re-read and realize it must be destroyed." said me.
Eventually my melancholy had manifested into a blog post written across the pages of January and February that I'm so glad I didn't actually post. When I looked over it again, it was basically the diary entry of a teenage girl whose boyfriend didn't pay attention to her on prom night. And I hate when I get like that. Does anyone else know the feeling? It's when you'd like to throw yourself a pity party to freely pout and eat frozen yogurt and watch "Some Kind of Wonderful" 10 times in a row and egotistically think, "Fuck it--I'm cute and awesome" while simultaneously nurturing your multiplying number of insecurities.
Again, teenage girl on prom night.
As I drove home through the rain Tuesday, I did start furiously making plans in my mind, having been freshly motivated by my melodrama.
And I was a little happy by the motivation, even if it came from a juvenile place. It's been a while since I've seen it so I barely recognized it, but here it was--ready to make me do stuff.
After Tuesday was over and Wednesday made good on its promise to show up, I plugged in my iPod to find this song had moved to my most played list. I had literally hit repeat all day Tuesday so that I was only listening to this over and over.
Tuesday, I guess this is your song.