Big ambitions

I went to the Andy Warhol museum when I was in Pittsburgh, and I’ve decided I’m not kooky enough. I have to do more kooky things. And be more pretentious. Also I’ve decided I haven’t slept on enough couches. I should really do more of that too.

I have a list of things I’ve decided to do with my life:

• Wear boy’s clothes more.
• Sleep on more couches.
• Construct more sentences.
• Be funnier, but without giggling like a big girl’s blouse all the time.
• Not be self-conscious of my smile.
• Dream more, but sleep less.
• Write short stories that have no plot and no meaning whatsoever.
• Cease to be allergic to cats through meditation.
• Talk to cats, in the hopes that they will tell me their secrets.
• Contradict myself.
• Not get any more crushes, not even painful ones, especially not on the right
  people.
• Lie about my past in a particularly disbelievable way.
• Smoke flavoured cigarettes and wear coloured glasses and talk about
  existentialism in trendy cafes.
• Repeat myself.
• Cook rice, but nothing else.
• Eat rice.
• Wear overalls in England, and put on a really American accent, and wear a straw
  hat.
• Continue to contradict myself in an effort to confuse prey.
• Cease to grow any older so I can do more stuff. Like sleep on couches.
• Repeat myself.
• Conquer the planet, and then give it back because I didn’t really want it
  anyway. All I wanted was to be loved.
• Get a tattoo.
• Not live in England, but live in the outer regions of Niflheim during the summer, and everywhere else in the winter.
• Grow a goatee beard and behave like a screaming queen in a secret double life only exposed after my death.
• Get a new laptop so I can work from Niflheim with no problems.
• Repeat myself.
• Get a tattoo.
• Learn to drink beer.