Morticians

I only have half an hour to write up 500 words for today. And why did I leave this til this late? Because, frankly, I really had no idea what the shit to write. I was thinking about stuff all day but none of it was writing, and I suppose part of me feels guilty for that but I was thinking about Halloween costume ideas and Nathan Fillion and other things that a rather lonely nineteen year old girl thinks about.

And right now I'm watching Six Feet Under and it's just a sad way to live my life through fictional characters. I cannot believe that I talked myself into going to university as early as I did. I can't believe I didn't take a co-op like any normal person would've in my situation. Why the fuck in my right mind did I decide to go to McMaster anyway? What did that do? Just made things worse.

So, now I am watching David and Nate sit around in the parlor room and all I want to do is have my own quiet room and crying room and morgue and just work on bodies all day. Make people look pretty for their families to see one last time. Just to sort of, well, help them, I suppose.

But no, that's shitty and gone. For me to go to mortuary school, I would need 300 hours in a funeral home, a co-op and my chemistry from high school and if there's one place that I won't go that's not McMaster, it would be high school. What good did high school do for me anyway? All high school taught me was that I'm a douchebag and if I charm enough people with my douchebaggery that I'll get the marks I need to get into university.

What did university teach me? That I am not charming enough to charm intelligent people. Which, okay sounds awful when I say that. I believe that all of (most of) my friends are intelligent. Whether they are good at math or English or anything really. I am tired of my unintelligent friends, though. Which, again, sounds awful, but, again, it's true.

I'm not even sure what I should be writing here for tonight. I didn't come up with anything weird or thought-provoking or dripping with pretentiousness. I just didn't realize that it would get this late, but then again, that's typical of me. I start something and then I either avoid it or I want it done. Probably why there are so many of these blogs kicking around on the Internet; I like to make stuff and then watch it slowly die.

Maybe that's why I wanted to be a mortician to begin with. Because they've already done all the dirty work for me. They lived and I just have to finish them up. Watch'em go into the ground or into the oven and then, well, then I'm done.