Summer.

I really hate the summer. I can't ever remember liking it, even when I was young enough to not feel lazy for not having a job to go to. It's just endless hot days stretched out as far as the eye can see.

All of the things people usually do during the summer don't especially appeal to me.

I'd like to go to the beach, but I don't know anyone else who wants to/ has a car.

I'm torn on going to a swimming pool. My apartment complex has one, but I haven't owned a bathing suit in four years. I maintain that I'd rather be naked in front of people than in a bathing suit. I'm not sure why. I just hate myself in them.

I can only sit and read so many books/ play so many videogames/ surf the internet for so long. 

Haband is getting tired of me. I can't get them to talk to me anymore. I need a job so badly that I've even asked my mother to see if they would take me back at the dining hall for the summer. 

I was so excited that they gave me hours at the bookstore later this week that I did a sort of jig. No really.  It's only two shifts, but I feel sort of special- only me and one other person were called in for hours. I get to work Thursday, noon to close. Then I work Friday from ten am to five. I was so sure that they were just fucking me with hours, but it seems the god of scheduling has taken pity.

My boyfriend gets to start class this week. I wish so badly that I could, too. I hate being poor like this. Being the kind of poor that stops me from doing something that I fucking need to do. I swear it won't always be like this. I don't care what I have to do, but I will be able to go to the grocery store and buy everything I need one day. 

Ugh, I should stop self-pity blogging and do something. I've been cleaning all day, to make me feel like I was doing something.