Well sorry I didn't blog last night but here, very briefly, is what I mean about the publishing industry being doooomed: the idea that anyone at all, anywhere, would be upset about this instead of thrilled shows how completely ignorant some people in the industry are. Lawks amercy, someone is using authors' public information to make webpages and then encouraging people to follow those authors! Clutch the pearls, prep the fainting couch! A company is trying to boost the industry but we don't have total control of it therefore it is eeeevil and must be outlawed -- how dare they.
Eh, I need coffee. Just wanted to point to the ignoramuses.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Hallo good morning and I actually remembered that it's SBD. Go me!
(Side note: OMG Joel fuckin Osteen and his wife are on GMA and this dude is SO TOTALLY GAY. It's sad, how obviously closeted he is. What a culture we live in, where men feel like they have to do this to themselves. I mean really, who says you can't run a mega-church AND be openly gay? Break the mold, man.)
I really don't have a damn thing to SBD, but I promise to think on it and maybe come up with something. Maybe it'll be about how I don't feel like spending money on reading material anymore, and/or how the publishing industry is so very obviously doomed.
But right now, I shall open comments, then go put on my boots and coat and head on out. Let us know if you SBD, or at least say hi, okay? Okay.
(Oooh PS: roof men are on the roof. I REPEAT: THE ROOF MEN ARE ON THE ROOF. Fingers crossed, y'all.)
(Side note: OMG Joel fuckin Osteen and his wife are on GMA and this dude is SO TOTALLY GAY. It's sad, how obviously closeted he is. What a culture we live in, where men feel like they have to do this to themselves. I mean really, who says you can't run a mega-church AND be openly gay? Break the mold, man.)
I really don't have a damn thing to SBD, but I promise to think on it and maybe come up with something. Maybe it'll be about how I don't feel like spending money on reading material anymore, and/or how the publishing industry is so very obviously doomed.
But right now, I shall open comments, then go put on my boots and coat and head on out. Let us know if you SBD, or at least say hi, okay? Okay.
(Oooh PS: roof men are on the roof. I REPEAT: THE ROOF MEN ARE ON THE ROOF. Fingers crossed, y'all.)
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Well then. It snowed quite heavily, and is sticking all over the place. Snow plows going by, clumps of slush falling from the eaves. I took a picture to show you all, but can't for the life of me find the cord to upload it, which is really really annoying. Anyway, it's a winter wonderland - for today, at least. Hopefully it'll melt soon.
I've been all happy at the lack of leaking through this last week of Allegedly Repaired Roof Meets Spring Rains, but this is the true test: pounds of melting snow. And I'm happy to report that my savings account will get a little bit fatter, due to the slow dripdripdrip happening in the bedroom.
Yes, really. But at least it's just the one spot on the one window, instead of three long expanses of uncountable drips. So I can't get too worked up about it. I think I'm too mildly depressed to get worked up about much. Maybe I'll shop a little, to cheer myself?
In conclusion, I think maybe I have decided to chop off my hair. Not as short as before, though. Maybe a bob-like cut. I dunno. I just don't think I can handle this much hair anymore.
I've been all happy at the lack of leaking through this last week of Allegedly Repaired Roof Meets Spring Rains, but this is the true test: pounds of melting snow. And I'm happy to report that my savings account will get a little bit fatter, due to the slow dripdripdrip happening in the bedroom.
Yes, really. But at least it's just the one spot on the one window, instead of three long expanses of uncountable drips. So I can't get too worked up about it. I think I'm too mildly depressed to get worked up about much. Maybe I'll shop a little, to cheer myself?
In conclusion, I think maybe I have decided to chop off my hair. Not as short as before, though. Maybe a bob-like cut. I dunno. I just don't think I can handle this much hair anymore.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
It's going to snow tonight. Of course. I mean, it's not even April yet. Duh.
Sigh.
My mother called and left a message. Three months after Christmas, she wonders if I've seen my niece, to whom she gave my gift, "and I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you at Christmas." Funny how it never really occurred to me. I don't think my niece ever mentioned it, but I could've forgotten and I haven't seen her in person for several months.
Anyway. She also said I was welcome at Easter, which is probably what reminded her of Christmas. When the machine clicked off, I found myself thinking how I miss having a real mother. Then I thought - but do I miss having my mother? Or just a mother in general? And I kept tossing the thoughts around until I realized that I don't even know what it's like to have a mom anymore. Not really. Not since I was a kid, I guess. My mother was a great mom to little kids - not so great with adult kids. So I look at my friends with their moms and it's like some alien thing. Like some cultural difference that I can't ever really experience except as a spectator. Their moms are kind of like friends who know everything that matters, but that they don't really talk to about everything. It's someone they think about a lot -they always want to make sure their moms are okay, what's going on, when will they see each other again, how's the health, how's the rest of the fam, etc. And their moms think the same about them, want to know the same things and care the same way.
I mean it seems simple enough, as far as relationships go. It's like a friend, but a different variety. The kind where you're sort of the center of her universe, even if not on a daily basis. And it's a really unconditional kind of love, obviously. I guess that's why it never really developed with my mom and me - I never felt like I was the most important thing in her world. I never even felt like I was in the running. (In case you're wondering, that actually does still really hurt and though I am quite calm about it, I'm still sitting here with the dripping tears and all. It just doesn't stop hurting, even when you forgive it and move on. It's there. For always.) And it's not like my mother didn't ever really care about me - it's just that she really doesn't seem to have any idea how to express her love to another adult in adult ways. Or something. I dunno, it's just really twisted and fucked up and I recognize that it's twisted and fucked ME up, and I'm not so good at the affection-expression and healthy adult realtionship-building myself. I could blame my mother for that, but I think it's only partly her influence. It's just me, see. I'm not so good at it. Even when I try. Which probably explains a lot of the useless emptiness in my life, but there ya go.
So anyway, what was my point? I don't think I had one. I do miss my mom a little, and I miss who I sometimes got to be with my mom, long long ago. I wish I had the kind of life where I could call up my mother and say "I totally want to buy a couch, come help me not make a horrible choice, like the time I was like 14 and insisted you buy that godawful ugly living room set that wasn't even all that comfy." I wish I could do that and be the kind of person I was 15 years ago, who didn't expect an afternoon with her mother to inevitably become an afternoon of How Unimportant Beth Really Is And All the Ways To Make Sure She Knows That.
Of course, at this rate, I may never go couch-shopping. I just keep putting it off. Easy to do, especially when the wind keeps howling and snow is in the forecast.
Anyway, I'm dwelling lately on all my failings, all the things that make me a sucky person. I don't recommend it, even when it seems like you can't avoid it because like everything is designed lately to remind you of your own shortcomings. I can remember learning one time, about people who are totally wrecked, mentally, and they get put into the loony bin, and one of the things they do is to give the loonies a simple task to do every day. And in some cases, it's just counting pennies. It seems stupid, of course, like a patronizing thing - "good boy, you can count pennies!" But therapists say it works because some people are just at a point where they're not capable of anything more challenging and getting through a simple task gives them something to hold onto and to build on. More like, "Yeah, well - at least I can count pennies."
So every time I try to buck myself up when I'm feeling a useless unwanted sack of skin, I think of it as penny-counting. Nobody likes me, I'll think - and then I tell myself Stop it now and go count some pennies. Lately that's taken the form of, like, literally counting my pennies. I look at my savings account and am amazed at how much I've managed to build it up. It's not much, of course - people with real savings would laugh at my pride in such a tiny hoard - but I didn't expect to have this much put by for another couple of years. It seems like magic, but *I* did that. Nobody even helped me or anything, or told me how.
And then of course I look at the debt, but I do try to focus on how much I've gotten rid of instead of how much is left. For a fun new aspect of that this morning, I dug through my old credit card statements. I've kept all of them since I started the Debt Management Plan, because they tell you that you should, though I can't imagine why. Maybe it's so that now I can look at those first statements, from less than 3 years ago, and see the change. I don't even think I did this at the time, but I added up the monthly minimums that I was supposed to be paying before I entered the DMP, and the total was almost the exact same as my monthly rent at the time. Which is insane. Even now, with my increased monthly payment to the plan, I'm not paying that. I couldn't afford to pay that even now. But the more recent statements - the monthly minimums on those are so small. It's just amazing and fabulous and wonderful, and even better: one day soon they'll all be at zero. It'll say-- Min. Payment: $0. Because I'm so smart to do this and I did it all by myself, totally my own accomplishment. It's like the smartest I've ever been in my whole life.
So there you have my modern girl version of penny-counting therapy. Concrete evidence that I can, in fact, pay my bills.
Works for me.
Sigh.
My mother called and left a message. Three months after Christmas, she wonders if I've seen my niece, to whom she gave my gift, "and I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you at Christmas." Funny how it never really occurred to me. I don't think my niece ever mentioned it, but I could've forgotten and I haven't seen her in person for several months.
Anyway. She also said I was welcome at Easter, which is probably what reminded her of Christmas. When the machine clicked off, I found myself thinking how I miss having a real mother. Then I thought - but do I miss having my mother? Or just a mother in general? And I kept tossing the thoughts around until I realized that I don't even know what it's like to have a mom anymore. Not really. Not since I was a kid, I guess. My mother was a great mom to little kids - not so great with adult kids. So I look at my friends with their moms and it's like some alien thing. Like some cultural difference that I can't ever really experience except as a spectator. Their moms are kind of like friends who know everything that matters, but that they don't really talk to about everything. It's someone they think about a lot -they always want to make sure their moms are okay, what's going on, when will they see each other again, how's the health, how's the rest of the fam, etc. And their moms think the same about them, want to know the same things and care the same way.
I mean it seems simple enough, as far as relationships go. It's like a friend, but a different variety. The kind where you're sort of the center of her universe, even if not on a daily basis. And it's a really unconditional kind of love, obviously. I guess that's why it never really developed with my mom and me - I never felt like I was the most important thing in her world. I never even felt like I was in the running. (In case you're wondering, that actually does still really hurt and though I am quite calm about it, I'm still sitting here with the dripping tears and all. It just doesn't stop hurting, even when you forgive it and move on. It's there. For always.) And it's not like my mother didn't ever really care about me - it's just that she really doesn't seem to have any idea how to express her love to another adult in adult ways. Or something. I dunno, it's just really twisted and fucked up and I recognize that it's twisted and fucked ME up, and I'm not so good at the affection-expression and healthy adult realtionship-building myself. I could blame my mother for that, but I think it's only partly her influence. It's just me, see. I'm not so good at it. Even when I try. Which probably explains a lot of the useless emptiness in my life, but there ya go.
So anyway, what was my point? I don't think I had one. I do miss my mom a little, and I miss who I sometimes got to be with my mom, long long ago. I wish I had the kind of life where I could call up my mother and say "I totally want to buy a couch, come help me not make a horrible choice, like the time I was like 14 and insisted you buy that godawful ugly living room set that wasn't even all that comfy." I wish I could do that and be the kind of person I was 15 years ago, who didn't expect an afternoon with her mother to inevitably become an afternoon of How Unimportant Beth Really Is And All the Ways To Make Sure She Knows That.
Of course, at this rate, I may never go couch-shopping. I just keep putting it off. Easy to do, especially when the wind keeps howling and snow is in the forecast.
Anyway, I'm dwelling lately on all my failings, all the things that make me a sucky person. I don't recommend it, even when it seems like you can't avoid it because like everything is designed lately to remind you of your own shortcomings. I can remember learning one time, about people who are totally wrecked, mentally, and they get put into the loony bin, and one of the things they do is to give the loonies a simple task to do every day. And in some cases, it's just counting pennies. It seems stupid, of course, like a patronizing thing - "good boy, you can count pennies!" But therapists say it works because some people are just at a point where they're not capable of anything more challenging and getting through a simple task gives them something to hold onto and to build on. More like, "Yeah, well - at least I can count pennies."
So every time I try to buck myself up when I'm feeling a useless unwanted sack of skin, I think of it as penny-counting. Nobody likes me, I'll think - and then I tell myself Stop it now and go count some pennies. Lately that's taken the form of, like, literally counting my pennies. I look at my savings account and am amazed at how much I've managed to build it up. It's not much, of course - people with real savings would laugh at my pride in such a tiny hoard - but I didn't expect to have this much put by for another couple of years. It seems like magic, but *I* did that. Nobody even helped me or anything, or told me how.
And then of course I look at the debt, but I do try to focus on how much I've gotten rid of instead of how much is left. For a fun new aspect of that this morning, I dug through my old credit card statements. I've kept all of them since I started the Debt Management Plan, because they tell you that you should, though I can't imagine why. Maybe it's so that now I can look at those first statements, from less than 3 years ago, and see the change. I don't even think I did this at the time, but I added up the monthly minimums that I was supposed to be paying before I entered the DMP, and the total was almost the exact same as my monthly rent at the time. Which is insane. Even now, with my increased monthly payment to the plan, I'm not paying that. I couldn't afford to pay that even now. But the more recent statements - the monthly minimums on those are so small. It's just amazing and fabulous and wonderful, and even better: one day soon they'll all be at zero. It'll say-- Min. Payment: $0. Because I'm so smart to do this and I did it all by myself, totally my own accomplishment. It's like the smartest I've ever been in my whole life.
So there you have my modern girl version of penny-counting therapy. Concrete evidence that I can, in fact, pay my bills.
Works for me.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Allow me just to say that, as a voting adult who has experienced the Republican party only in the forms of Newt Gingrich, Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin, and the like, and despaired that my government was being run by bloviating gasbags who spew such hatred of the gays and the blacks and the furriners and basically anyone not straight and white and rich and male (and preferably Southern) - that watching them completely fall apart into blithering little slivers of helpless Stupid is... what's the word? Delicious. Seriously, for the sake of history: let it be known that it is a fantastically yummy experience. For the record.
Also for the record, I'm beginning to fall a little in love with my new boots, despite the pinching and the (manageable) blisters of the breaking-in process. Love, I tell you.
And also... what? I dunno, lost my train of thought. Weekend's almost here (huzzah!) and I have no plans. Lately I've been on a fabulous Gradual Spring Cleaning kick. See, I realized that almost every time I decide "I will dedicate this weekend to spring cleaning the ENTIRE APARTMENT!", what inevitably happens is that I get overwhelmed and am lucky just to get the dishes washed and the cat litter cleaned. So instead, every weekend I've been choosing one set task that I must get done. Just one. It's how I got the closet cleaned out, and one weekend it was all this paper shredding and last weekend was a massive kitchen scrub-down. Et cetera. It totally works and I recommend it, if you find yourself dithering and getting nothing done. I think this weekend maybe I'll tackle the living room. Goal: rid entire room of dust and cat hair, which means all the corners and all the books.
This is my exciting life. Yes, really.
In other news, I bought some Paula's Choice products for the first time (sale!) and give a big fat thumb's up, if you're looking for any kind of cosmetic/skin care stuff. Love the lip gloss, want another. LOVE the antioxidant concentrate before-moisturizer stuff. And the all-over hair/body cleanser is flippin awesome. And the bonus is that the customer service is terrific. I didn't even call or anything, I just mean that they included a little card in my box that tells me who packed it for me, how to contact them in any one of various ways, thanks so much for ordering and fyi this whole package is recyclable. I dunno, it felt so much more thoughtful than just a packing slip. Like they made a point of it or something. Kudos to them.
Anyway. I'm working on shaking my downer of a mood, can you tell? The lip gloss is helping. (Seriously, the lip gloss is great.) Focusing on the positive. Or something. I'm wondering if a drastic haircut is in order, but I kind of think it's a bad idea to let a (probably) transient mood motivate me in the ralm of haircuts.
Eh, what I should do is sleep now. I was all insomniac last night, which can't be helping things.
I wish I had two cookies. I would eat them. But I never have cookies. Oh well.
Also for the record, I'm beginning to fall a little in love with my new boots, despite the pinching and the (manageable) blisters of the breaking-in process. Love, I tell you.
And also... what? I dunno, lost my train of thought. Weekend's almost here (huzzah!) and I have no plans. Lately I've been on a fabulous Gradual Spring Cleaning kick. See, I realized that almost every time I decide "I will dedicate this weekend to spring cleaning the ENTIRE APARTMENT!", what inevitably happens is that I get overwhelmed and am lucky just to get the dishes washed and the cat litter cleaned. So instead, every weekend I've been choosing one set task that I must get done. Just one. It's how I got the closet cleaned out, and one weekend it was all this paper shredding and last weekend was a massive kitchen scrub-down. Et cetera. It totally works and I recommend it, if you find yourself dithering and getting nothing done. I think this weekend maybe I'll tackle the living room. Goal: rid entire room of dust and cat hair, which means all the corners and all the books.
This is my exciting life. Yes, really.
In other news, I bought some Paula's Choice products for the first time (sale!) and give a big fat thumb's up, if you're looking for any kind of cosmetic/skin care stuff. Love the lip gloss, want another. LOVE the antioxidant concentrate before-moisturizer stuff. And the all-over hair/body cleanser is flippin awesome. And the bonus is that the customer service is terrific. I didn't even call or anything, I just mean that they included a little card in my box that tells me who packed it for me, how to contact them in any one of various ways, thanks so much for ordering and fyi this whole package is recyclable. I dunno, it felt so much more thoughtful than just a packing slip. Like they made a point of it or something. Kudos to them.
Anyway. I'm working on shaking my downer of a mood, can you tell? The lip gloss is helping. (Seriously, the lip gloss is great.) Focusing on the positive. Or something. I'm wondering if a drastic haircut is in order, but I kind of think it's a bad idea to let a (probably) transient mood motivate me in the ralm of haircuts.
Eh, what I should do is sleep now. I was all insomniac last night, which can't be helping things.
I wish I had two cookies. I would eat them. But I never have cookies. Oh well.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Well so here I am.
I am sort of not having a good day. I'm a bit emotional about it. So I try not to think of it. But then I wonder: is it maybe not so good to always avoid unpleasant thoughts? There's such a thing as a willing denial, after all. Which I'm actually a big believer in, if I hadn't mentioned, because denial is actually a very awesome tool. Useful, soothing, mostly harmless, handy as all hell. But sometimes? Eez no so good.
Whatever. I am just very confused about how to live life, I guess, and who really isn't? We all just stumble on through and fuck up and have good times and bad days and hope for the best. Nothing all that special about it. But don't you sometimes think - I mean, with the economy and all, and the constant specter of life-shattering developments hanging over us like a ghostly vulture, how we're all at least a tick (or two or three or ten) closer to complete disaster - doesn't it sometimes feel like a wonderfully welcome possibility? I mean, it's not like I want to my entire existence to be centered around paying my bills, digging myself out of debt. Which is to say that, in some rather significant ways, I don't actually want this life I have. Like many people, I've just managed to paint myself into a corner. And it's a corner that sucks all the want out of you. The big wants, at least.
So we frame posters and string lights and set up a television in our little corner. It's a comfortable tight little spot we've all crammed ourselves into, intentionally or not. And sure there are other places you could be, but all your stuff is here. Your stuff. Stuff is important. You might not have much, but at least you've got your stuff. We all like our stuff, don't we. Pretty apartments filled with light and stacks of books and a pot of basil in the windowsill and a cat with an adorable snore. You don't really want to dislodge yourself, anyway, do you? But oh the lovely relief sometimes, when you think about some great and uncontrollable force blowing through and forcing change. You could only hold on to what mattered most. And you could start building all over again. Choose a different corner to call your own this time, after surveying all that open terrain. All that person you could be, released into the wild. In that un-poem kinda way I wrote that one time.
Oh well. I've had too much wine and not enough sleep and far too many days with sinuses that have felt like they were stuffed with Elmer's glue, so it's only normal I'd tilt toward emotion instead of the easy numb denial state. When I think of where I came from, of what my life was like as a kid, of the things my little girl self used to want more than anything, I know how absurdly lucky I am. If you'd told my 12-year-old self that this would be my life, she'd squeal with disbelief and delight. It's worth remembering that, sometimes. You lose a lot of who you are, over time, so you might as well cherish the lingering bits of consciousness from your inner pre-teen.
And now I'll just take my puffy-eyed, over-thinking, emoting self off to bed, I guess. Tomorrow's another day. Once more unto the breach and all that.
I am sort of not having a good day. I'm a bit emotional about it. So I try not to think of it. But then I wonder: is it maybe not so good to always avoid unpleasant thoughts? There's such a thing as a willing denial, after all. Which I'm actually a big believer in, if I hadn't mentioned, because denial is actually a very awesome tool. Useful, soothing, mostly harmless, handy as all hell. But sometimes? Eez no so good.
Whatever. I am just very confused about how to live life, I guess, and who really isn't? We all just stumble on through and fuck up and have good times and bad days and hope for the best. Nothing all that special about it. But don't you sometimes think - I mean, with the economy and all, and the constant specter of life-shattering developments hanging over us like a ghostly vulture, how we're all at least a tick (or two or three or ten) closer to complete disaster - doesn't it sometimes feel like a wonderfully welcome possibility? I mean, it's not like I want to my entire existence to be centered around paying my bills, digging myself out of debt. Which is to say that, in some rather significant ways, I don't actually want this life I have. Like many people, I've just managed to paint myself into a corner. And it's a corner that sucks all the want out of you. The big wants, at least.
So we frame posters and string lights and set up a television in our little corner. It's a comfortable tight little spot we've all crammed ourselves into, intentionally or not. And sure there are other places you could be, but all your stuff is here. Your stuff. Stuff is important. You might not have much, but at least you've got your stuff. We all like our stuff, don't we. Pretty apartments filled with light and stacks of books and a pot of basil in the windowsill and a cat with an adorable snore. You don't really want to dislodge yourself, anyway, do you? But oh the lovely relief sometimes, when you think about some great and uncontrollable force blowing through and forcing change. You could only hold on to what mattered most. And you could start building all over again. Choose a different corner to call your own this time, after surveying all that open terrain. All that person you could be, released into the wild. In that un-poem kinda way I wrote that one time.
Oh well. I've had too much wine and not enough sleep and far too many days with sinuses that have felt like they were stuffed with Elmer's glue, so it's only normal I'd tilt toward emotion instead of the easy numb denial state. When I think of where I came from, of what my life was like as a kid, of the things my little girl self used to want more than anything, I know how absurdly lucky I am. If you'd told my 12-year-old self that this would be my life, she'd squeal with disbelief and delight. It's worth remembering that, sometimes. You lose a lot of who you are, over time, so you might as well cherish the lingering bits of consciousness from your inner pre-teen.
And now I'll just take my puffy-eyed, over-thinking, emoting self off to bed, I guess. Tomorrow's another day. Once more unto the breach and all that.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sorry I totally meant to open up SBD today but I got alla this snot and nose-itching and the kleenex and the sneezing and oy. Fookin allergies, man. So anyhow, if you bitched, let us know.
Me? I finally realized I wanted to re-read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I get the hankering for it every few years, always in the spring or early summer. If you never read it, I recommend giving it a shot. It's easy to read, for one thing, and it's a very interesting (in a fun trivia sorta way) to read about Brooklyn in the early 20th century. It seems like it'd be depressing, since it's about a pathetically poor family living in a tenement with a drunk Irish father and they live off stale bread, mostly - like that. But it's written with a kind of glow around it all. It's like a Disney version of Angela's Ashes or something. No, that's makes it sound awful. Well maybe it IS awful, I dunno, I have this enduring affinity for it so am not at all objective. But it's definitely very sentimental, and I get in the mood for it sometimes.
So that's what I'm reading now. How bout you?
Me? I finally realized I wanted to re-read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I get the hankering for it every few years, always in the spring or early summer. If you never read it, I recommend giving it a shot. It's easy to read, for one thing, and it's a very interesting (in a fun trivia sorta way) to read about Brooklyn in the early 20th century. It seems like it'd be depressing, since it's about a pathetically poor family living in a tenement with a drunk Irish father and they live off stale bread, mostly - like that. But it's written with a kind of glow around it all. It's like a Disney version of Angela's Ashes or something. No, that's makes it sound awful. Well maybe it IS awful, I dunno, I have this enduring affinity for it so am not at all objective. But it's definitely very sentimental, and I get in the mood for it sometimes.
So that's what I'm reading now. How bout you?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Oh wait hang on now - Netflix has Season 1 of Xena Warrior Princess available to watch instantly. Huzzah! Cheesey Xena marathon to keep me entertained!
Ooh ooh ooh!!! they have the Tick! All episodes!
This is AWESOME. If you need me, I'll be trying to find the best position for the laptop in my bad. Man, I wish I had a headboard.
Ooh ooh ooh!!! they have the Tick! All episodes!
This is AWESOME. If you need me, I'll be trying to find the best position for the laptop in my bad. Man, I wish I had a headboard.
Christ almighty am I BORED.
See, yesterday I skipped work due to a very not-good sinus headache that wouldn't stop (and I coulda gone to work, but I figured: why suffer? I got lotsa sick time, I can sleep it off and enjoy a relaxing day) and then today as I was preparing to head off to the office, I threw my back out. Which seriously? Ouch. Fucking OUCH, man.
So I've spent the day all doped up on pain meds and unable to move much and I am BORED, I tell you. I'd freaking love a nap, but I'm afraid of getting into bed and then being unable to get out sans agony. Television sucks. I am between Netflix at the moment and though I could stream something from their site to entertain me, nothing really appeals. Which is still, incidentally, the situation with the reading material. But then again, it's not exactly easy to read a book in this position. Sitting straight up on the computer chair, I mean, which is the most comfortable and mobile option. Sure I COULD hold a book in front of my face, but my arms would get tired after a while, and I'd slouch some, and the pain would come, and the end. So really, no big loss on the I Wish I Could Read front.
In other news, I've gotten really fucking sick of hunting for new boots every year, only to find nothing exactly right, then compromise on the style and watch them fall apart after a few months of careful wear. Like 4 winters in a row now, and I can't TAKE it anymore, I will never find anything as satisfying as my Cloud Nines were, just accept that already. So I accepted it and said fuck It and ordered a pair of Doc Martens. I've never owned Docs before, can you believe it? But they were a really big deal right at the time where I couldn't even afford $10 shoes, much less the kind you pay $150 for.
Anyhoo so I ordered from Zappos because (miraculously) the style I wanted were cheaper there than anywhere else. Much to my surprise, the package arrived today - when I was home and able to carefully hobble down the stairs and accept the package this afternoon. And I KNOW they take a lot of breaking in, of course, I remember the tales of it quite distinctly, but my toes went numb. They're really tight across the instep, because I have high arches and fat hobbit feet and generally go for Wide sizes. Plenty of room in the toe and heel, though. I figured I'd just wear them about, condition them a lot, stretch the vamp a bit, ya know? But five minutes of wearing them and I felt like a foot amputee.
Fortunately, these nice heavily accented guys a few blocks over do shoe-stretching and will only charge me $5 to put the on the rack for a day. Brilliant.
Let's see, what else? Ummmm... nuttin? Oh wait, did I mention how I'm shoving extra cash toward my debt? I have the debt management plan (DMP), right, and all my credit card debt is consolidated and I make one hefty payment every month - this was all set up... ummm when? Summer 2006, I think? Anyway, my last payment was scheduled for like August 2010, the day I would be Free At Last. BUT! I got thinking about what to do with my wee raise (did I mention I got a raise? I did. Not much, kinda standard, but nice and unexpected. But anyway.) and was guessing I'd just stick it all into the 401k. But then I thought - what if I lose my job?
Look, here's an important thing: it is not likely I will lose my job. Unless I do something nutso, like flick lit cigarettes at my boss or something, my job is extremely secure for at least the rest of 2009. I know this because it's budgeted for. It's even contingency Worst Case Scenario budgeted for. (I maintain the budget, ergo I know these things.) The next time a personnel cut for the sake of finances would happen next year, the 2010 budget. If at that time, severe cuts had to happen, I would be most likely to be axed. Why? Because everyone in my organization has a unique job title/function EXCEPT for me and this other assistant. We are the two assistants. She's been there 25 years. If anyone gets axed, it'll be me, see.
And that's okay, because I dunno that anyone is ever going to get axed, we're actually doing pretty well, all things considered. And I'd know if we were floundering because, as aforementioned, I maintain the books. But the thing is that I've decided not to count on anything anymore, because it's a crazy fucking world, am I right? So I figured it's best to do some Worst Case Scenario thinking. And in the worst case scenario, if I lost my job, I'd be pretty okay. I have a tad of savings that would get me through for a while. I could always move in with my brother if I had to, which would take care of most my expenses. The only big expenses that would swallow me up would be the DMP and the student loan. Okay, student loan: no problem, I could get a deferment due to unemployment. Okay, so the DMP: ... ummm... ummm... Oh. Hm.
So I figured if I can get it paid off sooner than late 2010, then in the unlikely event that I become unemployed in a year, I will panic far far far far less and be able to pull my life back together far far far more easily and quickly. Because if I'm late with a single payment even once on the DMP, the credit card companies can cancel their agreement with me, jack up the interest rate to like 30% and/or demand immediate payment in full, and basically compleeeetely fuck up my financial life for a lot of years if not forever. (Like I said: worst case scenario. But not actually far-fetched, see.) I highly recommend imagining this worst case scenario thing in your own life, because that way you have a clue what you're up against and what things you can or can't do if it ever comes to that. And while I still don't know what I'd do about my cat, because the neff is wildly allergic, I do know that I am presently capable of raising my DMP payments by like 40% every month and being rid of the credit card shit that weighs me down by next February.
Which will leave me free to celebrate my bday in style and great jubilant joy. Which also means I'm back on a somewhat strict budget. But that's okay, because a month from now I'll have more savings than credit debt. And that, my friends, is a fucking exciting thing.
Now that I've bored you with tales of my household budget, I'll take some more painkillers and refrain from boring you with tales of how every chore I'd planned for this weekend (recycle the old TV finally, dammit! do laundry! move bed and clean floor beneath!) involves using back muscles that clearly don't share my ambitions. Classic.
See, yesterday I skipped work due to a very not-good sinus headache that wouldn't stop (and I coulda gone to work, but I figured: why suffer? I got lotsa sick time, I can sleep it off and enjoy a relaxing day) and then today as I was preparing to head off to the office, I threw my back out. Which seriously? Ouch. Fucking OUCH, man.
So I've spent the day all doped up on pain meds and unable to move much and I am BORED, I tell you. I'd freaking love a nap, but I'm afraid of getting into bed and then being unable to get out sans agony. Television sucks. I am between Netflix at the moment and though I could stream something from their site to entertain me, nothing really appeals. Which is still, incidentally, the situation with the reading material. But then again, it's not exactly easy to read a book in this position. Sitting straight up on the computer chair, I mean, which is the most comfortable and mobile option. Sure I COULD hold a book in front of my face, but my arms would get tired after a while, and I'd slouch some, and the pain would come, and the end. So really, no big loss on the I Wish I Could Read front.
In other news, I've gotten really fucking sick of hunting for new boots every year, only to find nothing exactly right, then compromise on the style and watch them fall apart after a few months of careful wear. Like 4 winters in a row now, and I can't TAKE it anymore, I will never find anything as satisfying as my Cloud Nines were, just accept that already. So I accepted it and said fuck It and ordered a pair of Doc Martens. I've never owned Docs before, can you believe it? But they were a really big deal right at the time where I couldn't even afford $10 shoes, much less the kind you pay $150 for.
Anyhoo so I ordered from Zappos because (miraculously) the style I wanted were cheaper there than anywhere else. Much to my surprise, the package arrived today - when I was home and able to carefully hobble down the stairs and accept the package this afternoon. And I KNOW they take a lot of breaking in, of course, I remember the tales of it quite distinctly, but my toes went numb. They're really tight across the instep, because I have high arches and fat hobbit feet and generally go for Wide sizes. Plenty of room in the toe and heel, though. I figured I'd just wear them about, condition them a lot, stretch the vamp a bit, ya know? But five minutes of wearing them and I felt like a foot amputee.
Fortunately, these nice heavily accented guys a few blocks over do shoe-stretching and will only charge me $5 to put the on the rack for a day. Brilliant.
Let's see, what else? Ummmm... nuttin? Oh wait, did I mention how I'm shoving extra cash toward my debt? I have the debt management plan (DMP), right, and all my credit card debt is consolidated and I make one hefty payment every month - this was all set up... ummm when? Summer 2006, I think? Anyway, my last payment was scheduled for like August 2010, the day I would be Free At Last. BUT! I got thinking about what to do with my wee raise (did I mention I got a raise? I did. Not much, kinda standard, but nice and unexpected. But anyway.) and was guessing I'd just stick it all into the 401k. But then I thought - what if I lose my job?
Look, here's an important thing: it is not likely I will lose my job. Unless I do something nutso, like flick lit cigarettes at my boss or something, my job is extremely secure for at least the rest of 2009. I know this because it's budgeted for. It's even contingency Worst Case Scenario budgeted for. (I maintain the budget, ergo I know these things.) The next time a personnel cut for the sake of finances would happen next year, the 2010 budget. If at that time, severe cuts had to happen, I would be most likely to be axed. Why? Because everyone in my organization has a unique job title/function EXCEPT for me and this other assistant. We are the two assistants. She's been there 25 years. If anyone gets axed, it'll be me, see.
And that's okay, because I dunno that anyone is ever going to get axed, we're actually doing pretty well, all things considered. And I'd know if we were floundering because, as aforementioned, I maintain the books. But the thing is that I've decided not to count on anything anymore, because it's a crazy fucking world, am I right? So I figured it's best to do some Worst Case Scenario thinking. And in the worst case scenario, if I lost my job, I'd be pretty okay. I have a tad of savings that would get me through for a while. I could always move in with my brother if I had to, which would take care of most my expenses. The only big expenses that would swallow me up would be the DMP and the student loan. Okay, student loan: no problem, I could get a deferment due to unemployment. Okay, so the DMP: ... ummm... ummm... Oh. Hm.
So I figured if I can get it paid off sooner than late 2010, then in the unlikely event that I become unemployed in a year, I will panic far far far far less and be able to pull my life back together far far far more easily and quickly. Because if I'm late with a single payment even once on the DMP, the credit card companies can cancel their agreement with me, jack up the interest rate to like 30% and/or demand immediate payment in full, and basically compleeeetely fuck up my financial life for a lot of years if not forever. (Like I said: worst case scenario. But not actually far-fetched, see.) I highly recommend imagining this worst case scenario thing in your own life, because that way you have a clue what you're up against and what things you can or can't do if it ever comes to that. And while I still don't know what I'd do about my cat, because the neff is wildly allergic, I do know that I am presently capable of raising my DMP payments by like 40% every month and being rid of the credit card shit that weighs me down by next February.
Which will leave me free to celebrate my bday in style and great jubilant joy. Which also means I'm back on a somewhat strict budget. But that's okay, because a month from now I'll have more savings than credit debt. And that, my friends, is a fucking exciting thing.
Now that I've bored you with tales of my household budget, I'll take some more painkillers and refrain from boring you with tales of how every chore I'd planned for this weekend (recycle the old TV finally, dammit! do laundry! move bed and clean floor beneath!) involves using back muscles that clearly don't share my ambitions. Classic.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Oh, allergies. How I hate you.
So the roofers are apparently allegedly finished. Not that anyone has actually told me anything, because (as I've said on numerous occasions to my building manager) why oh why would anyone ever communicate a single goddamn bit of information to me, the person who lives here? It's just kee-razy to think you should keep me in the loop, I know. Anyhoo, they and their equipment seem to be gone baby gone. It was supposed to rain today (thereby being the first test of their alleged "work product") but it's just been cold and gray. It may rain this weekend, and then we'll see, I guess.
I'm not saying "yay wahoo the long nightmare is over" - because maybe it's not? I'm just saying: maybe. We wait for the pudding to be proofed. Until then, I will hold off on cleaning my comforter cover (AGAIN).
By the by, did I mention I DID clean the bedroom closet on the weekend? It's seriously so awesome. My closets are 100% clean and organized and uncluttered. It's glorious. And here's a sad little commentary on life: every time I tell a friend or coworker that I cleaned out my closets? The reaction is invariably an excited "Omigod, really, is it the best thing ever? I am sooo jealous!" It's like I said I just came back from Prague or something. It's honestly this absurdly exciting/enviable thing to anyone over the age of 30. How sad is that?
Not that I care, because I still stand in front of my closet every single morning this week, admiring the view. Makes me happy.
Okay, I guess I should eat something now. Not like I know what, exactly, but I'm sure there's... something... somewhere.
Gads, and I'm still out of scotch. Which is entirely unacceptable, so that's on the shopping list for the weekend. Along with more fresh green beans, coffee, and milk. In case you were curious.
So the roofers are apparently allegedly finished. Not that anyone has actually told me anything, because (as I've said on numerous occasions to my building manager) why oh why would anyone ever communicate a single goddamn bit of information to me, the person who lives here? It's just kee-razy to think you should keep me in the loop, I know. Anyhoo, they and their equipment seem to be gone baby gone. It was supposed to rain today (thereby being the first test of their alleged "work product") but it's just been cold and gray. It may rain this weekend, and then we'll see, I guess.
I'm not saying "yay wahoo the long nightmare is over" - because maybe it's not? I'm just saying: maybe. We wait for the pudding to be proofed. Until then, I will hold off on cleaning my comforter cover (AGAIN).
By the by, did I mention I DID clean the bedroom closet on the weekend? It's seriously so awesome. My closets are 100% clean and organized and uncluttered. It's glorious. And here's a sad little commentary on life: every time I tell a friend or coworker that I cleaned out my closets? The reaction is invariably an excited "Omigod, really, is it the best thing ever? I am sooo jealous!" It's like I said I just came back from Prague or something. It's honestly this absurdly exciting/enviable thing to anyone over the age of 30. How sad is that?
Not that I care, because I still stand in front of my closet every single morning this week, admiring the view. Makes me happy.
Okay, I guess I should eat something now. Not like I know what, exactly, but I'm sure there's... something... somewhere.
Gads, and I'm still out of scotch. Which is entirely unacceptable, so that's on the shopping list for the weekend. Along with more fresh green beans, coffee, and milk. In case you were curious.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Yes I know it's SBD and everything but the thing is that I have several friends of varying degrees of irreplaceability (it is too a word) and a distinct handful of them are relationships that are so vital to who I am that I completely freak out at the thought that things may be falling apart. Other friendships, I worry about, I work at, I don't neglect, and if something happens despite my efforts oh well that sucks but c'est la vie. But then these few others, the idea that maybe one day, poof gone? Has me just frantic at the thought and you start to wonder should you be all stoic and tough and harden your heart, etc etc, or you should just go a little bit crazy and let yourself burst into desperate tears? Assuming that it accutally DOES fall apart, that is, but really when you start to feel like things are maybe falling apart, that's the best time to prepare yourself for the worst. I know these things because I have had many things fall apart. And the worst is letting it blindside you. It's the very tricky business of prepping yourself for awfulness while not setting up a self-fulfilling prophecy. So really the best thing to do is to calmly go over again how much this person and this relationship means to you and how willing you are to continually go "eh, no big deal" and forego resentment or hurt feelings, and decide that yes of course without question absolutely not a single doubt that this friend is completely worth going far more than halfway to meet - I mean, some people you care about enough that there's no thought of a halfway-point of meeting, you know? It's like: fuck that halfway thing, I'll come over there to your continent and carry you all the way across the distance, several times if I have to, if that's what's needed.
So yeah. So you try. And you're patient and you remember that you have a half that you've not been entirely stellar at holding up, and anyway you're sure it's just Life, because life happens and just because things are hunky-dory for me right now, that doesn't mean other people are having as easy a time, and maybe it's even a little off-putting to have to talk to someone for whom everything is going quite well when life is just a bit more of a struggle and a slog for you. I get that. I really do. So really, there's no reason to panic just because I've talked to Snookie all of maybe 3 times in 4 months, when we used to talk a minimum of once a week, religiously. I know there's no reason to panic, honestly. I just have to make more of an effort, even if it's not reciprocated. Without being annoying and obnoxious and whatever. Or I could just be a fucking grown-up and actually, ya know - ask what the hell's up.
Or I could just chew at my fingernails and wring my hands and drink a lot of cheap red wine right now and try not to think about it. Works for me.
So yeah. So you try. And you're patient and you remember that you have a half that you've not been entirely stellar at holding up, and anyway you're sure it's just Life, because life happens and just because things are hunky-dory for me right now, that doesn't mean other people are having as easy a time, and maybe it's even a little off-putting to have to talk to someone for whom everything is going quite well when life is just a bit more of a struggle and a slog for you. I get that. I really do. So really, there's no reason to panic just because I've talked to Snookie all of maybe 3 times in 4 months, when we used to talk a minimum of once a week, religiously. I know there's no reason to panic, honestly. I just have to make more of an effort, even if it's not reciprocated. Without being annoying and obnoxious and whatever. Or I could just be a fucking grown-up and actually, ya know - ask what the hell's up.
Or I could just chew at my fingernails and wring my hands and drink a lot of cheap red wine right now and try not to think about it. Works for me.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Okay hi, just a note here: there is no better place in all the city of Chicago that the Brauhaus. For people watching. And bad-fabulous-hoaky music. An d great beer. And insane waitresses. And polka And cute kids./ An dfun Saturday nights, An d beer. Did I mention beer? Stiegl. And Spaten. On tap. An dalso that black bier which I forget the name. Oh and the apple streudel and that red cabbage. Yeah. And beer. And polka. ooh and the pretzel and especially the fookin mustard, mann.
poooooooooooookay, just one more place for everyone to mark down on their list of Places to Go In The City, yeah. And this is like 5 blocks from me, so call if you're headed that way., You have to have a total join-in participtatatory attitude though because it's no good if you won't sway your stein back and forth and singabout edelweiss an shit. I'm just saying.
omg so much beer okay gnight
poooooooooooookay, just one more place for everyone to mark down on their list of Places to Go In The City, yeah. And this is like 5 blocks from me, so call if you're headed that way., You have to have a total join-in participtatatory attitude though because it's no good if you won't sway your stein back and forth and singabout edelweiss an shit. I'm just saying.
omg so much beer okay gnight
I have a theory that (clothes) hangers used to be smaller. Shorter by an inch or two. Why they were ever made larger, I don't have a clue. But there you have it: Hangers got bigger.
PS: The roofers are roofing. Still. Loud noises, shouting voices, smell of hot tar. It's a winner.
PS: The roofers are roofing. Still. Loud noises, shouting voices, smell of hot tar. It's a winner.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I keep having these dreams lately about my family. My parents, really. They are not at all pleasant dreams, and they are increasingly vivid. The other day I dreamed as I was half-waking up, and when I was fully awake and the dream still with me, I was in this welter of confusion over whether to cry or scream or vomit. For instance. This morning I woke up all suffused with guilt and sadness and frustration. My nephew was in it. I was so angry, that he was dragged into it and crying and it was all my parents' fault.
Except that it was actually my friend Heather's fault for mistakenly telling me I had to go home. (It's a long and involved dream back-story.) Anyway, it all seems to be about collateral damage which always looks like it's my fault, my doing. But it's not, really, even though I take the blame and move on with my life because what else am I supposed to do? Families are so fucking stupid. I'm always just doing what I have to do, and someone gets hurt because of all the pieces missing from me, that get squirreled away or die off. And every morning I wake up and brush my teeth and wonder why these people had to be my parents, how different could I be if they weren't, and then I wouldn't have these thoughts that my lizard brain deems traitorous.
And then I avoid sleep-time thoughts by making a pan of brownies at 9:30pm, which I won't eat and will also probably forget to take to work in the morning, so it'll all likely wind up in the trash, as though I haven't already wasted enough in my life. But anyway.
The roof guys were here today. It's freezing outside, and I dunno when the next rain is forecast, but here's hoping.
I get paid tomorrow, and the weekend ahead, and no plans at all. I guess I'll do some spring cleaning, and a lot of organizing. I'm on an organizing kick lately. My closets are already like 80% more bearable. I'll shoot for 100% this weekend.
Except that it was actually my friend Heather's fault for mistakenly telling me I had to go home. (It's a long and involved dream back-story.) Anyway, it all seems to be about collateral damage which always looks like it's my fault, my doing. But it's not, really, even though I take the blame and move on with my life because what else am I supposed to do? Families are so fucking stupid. I'm always just doing what I have to do, and someone gets hurt because of all the pieces missing from me, that get squirreled away or die off. And every morning I wake up and brush my teeth and wonder why these people had to be my parents, how different could I be if they weren't, and then I wouldn't have these thoughts that my lizard brain deems traitorous.
And then I avoid sleep-time thoughts by making a pan of brownies at 9:30pm, which I won't eat and will also probably forget to take to work in the morning, so it'll all likely wind up in the trash, as though I haven't already wasted enough in my life. But anyway.
The roof guys were here today. It's freezing outside, and I dunno when the next rain is forecast, but here's hoping.
I get paid tomorrow, and the weekend ahead, and no plans at all. I guess I'll do some spring cleaning, and a lot of organizing. I'm on an organizing kick lately. My closets are already like 80% more bearable. I'll shoot for 100% this weekend.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Eh, that's not a bad day off. I got a lot done, really. Feels like I've been nuttin but lazy, but I accomplished more before noon today than I usually do on all of most weekends. This tends to be the way with the mid-week random day off, I've noticed. It's some way our brains are conditioned - a workday is for doing things you have to, the weekend is for doing things you want to. (Not that we necessarily always have weekends free of unwanted activities, of course - we just resent said activities way less on workdays. Or at least I do.) I haven't checked my email, even, because it -- wait, I dunno why. It feels like work, somehow. Not going into email make me feel like I'm hiding out, or something. Avoiding. It's nice.
Speaking of avoiding: No roof men today. Cold. Windy. Bastards.
I think I want to buy a fiddle. I can teach myself the basics. Not like I'd ever be more than barely passable, since my manual dexterity is for shit, but I want to try something new. When I was a kid and my mom asked me what instrument I wanted to learn (a family tradition), I said violin. I think it was violin - it was definitely a string instrument. But she said no - I had to choose something in the band, no orchestra. Stringed instruments were too expensive, apparently. So I settled for flute, because it was a girly thing and because I refused to play any brass instruments like all my brothers did.
Anyway. My grampa played fiddle for a little while when I was very young, but he said he was never that good at it ("I just fidled around with it," he says) and then arthritis set in and it didn't seem worth the effort to him. But I used to look at it, on his back porch, and wanted to hear it all the time. I can buy a very cheap one, so I don't see why I shouldn't sit back and annoy the neighbors all through the summer with my scratchings.
I also want to learn another language. Because I'm bored. So I suppose I'll google around for something. Not a romance language, though. Something that hurts my head more than that. It'd be nice if I got the urge to work out again. Ever. But it doesn't seem to be happening. Eh, whatever. I do have an urge for ice cream, of course, but that's mostly just a sign that winter is (FINALLY) ending.
Here's a thing: I seem incapable of reading lately. It's really a bummer. Usually taking the train every day makes me wish I had something to read - it makes me read anything at all, even the most boring stuff. But lately, I have no desire for it. It's not that no book appeals - it's that reading doesn't appeal. Which is slightly alarming. Especially considering the height of the book pile.
Oh hey there sudden sleepiness. The absurdly early morning combined with a glass of wine is making me fall half-asleep already. My productive day did not include a nap. Oy. Guess I'll sign off then. Gnite y'all
Speaking of avoiding: No roof men today. Cold. Windy. Bastards.
I think I want to buy a fiddle. I can teach myself the basics. Not like I'd ever be more than barely passable, since my manual dexterity is for shit, but I want to try something new. When I was a kid and my mom asked me what instrument I wanted to learn (a family tradition), I said violin. I think it was violin - it was definitely a string instrument. But she said no - I had to choose something in the band, no orchestra. Stringed instruments were too expensive, apparently. So I settled for flute, because it was a girly thing and because I refused to play any brass instruments like all my brothers did.
Anyway. My grampa played fiddle for a little while when I was very young, but he said he was never that good at it ("I just fidled around with it," he says) and then arthritis set in and it didn't seem worth the effort to him. But I used to look at it, on his back porch, and wanted to hear it all the time. I can buy a very cheap one, so I don't see why I shouldn't sit back and annoy the neighbors all through the summer with my scratchings.
I also want to learn another language. Because I'm bored. So I suppose I'll google around for something. Not a romance language, though. Something that hurts my head more than that. It'd be nice if I got the urge to work out again. Ever. But it doesn't seem to be happening. Eh, whatever. I do have an urge for ice cream, of course, but that's mostly just a sign that winter is (FINALLY) ending.
Here's a thing: I seem incapable of reading lately. It's really a bummer. Usually taking the train every day makes me wish I had something to read - it makes me read anything at all, even the most boring stuff. But lately, I have no desire for it. It's not that no book appeals - it's that reading doesn't appeal. Which is slightly alarming. Especially considering the height of the book pile.
Oh hey there sudden sleepiness. The absurdly early morning combined with a glass of wine is making me fall half-asleep already. My productive day did not include a nap. Oy. Guess I'll sign off then. Gnite y'all
Monday, March 09, 2009
- Yeah sorry, no SBD. As you can see, I've been far too busy being massively fucking annoyed in my free time.
- Despite all my life experience of living in this region, I find myself believing that Spring will actually happen sometime before May. Like, soon. About a week ago, I noticed the first squirrel of diminished plumpness, and now I see them scurrying all over. I (stupidly, no doubt) take this as a sign.
- Is it pathetic to go to bed now? Before 9pm? It's a Monday. And the whole Daylight Savings thing. But still. It feels lame.
- I need people on the train to stop fucking sniffing all the time. Seriously. I sniff too, because it's cold and windy and all. I understand. But it's beyond annoying to have to listen to a symphony of sniffing for 40 straight minutes, sans cesse. Here's a hint: I have kleenex in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it. Jaysus, people, it's not rocket science.
- I really think I may hack off my hair. It's so time consuming and troublesome and argh. It's very thick, too. I think most long hair is less annoying because it's not as thick as mine. But mine really is unusually copious. The new girl at the shop kept saying, as she slaved to get it all dried, "It's a LOT of hair. It's just so much hair." Over and over again.
- Yet the general consensus is that it makes me look younger. And I feel old and ugly and tired, a lot lately. So maybe I should keep it. But gads, the maintenance. (If you've seen my hair in real life, please give me an opinion on this, thanks. I should probably take a pic for you e-people.)
- I have Wednesay off, hurray. Except I have to go to a very early and highly annoying doctor's visit, after which I will go get my car tested for emissions. Because I apparently can't have a thorougly enjoyable day off, ever.
- Okay seriously. So tired. Gotta sleep now. Gnight.
- PS: This is funny heeeheee.
- Plus?
- Flowers!
- As bullet points!
- Yay!
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Well all my bitching and pleading has produced the tobacco-stained, heavily accented roofers at my door on a Sunday afternoon. I think the building manager decided to pawn me off on them, because I undoubtedly give him a headache with all my demands of "But WHYYYYYYYYYY isn't it fixed yet?" I showed them where the leaks are and where they aren't, and they told me what I already know - they haven't finished yet and they can't do anything while it's raining. "Sorry, we know it is bother for you, but is no damage, just bother. We finish soon," they tell me.
Yeah well not soon enough, mister. Here I sit with a massive headache, sleep-deprived, with the drip drip drip drip drip drip all around me and now the sound of them clomping about on the roof. (Um, I thought you said you can't do anything?) It's nice to know they've identified the problem, which is - AS I SAID A MILLION TIMES - in the brick-work of the walls above the window. Like where a gutter would be, but isn't, because this isn't the kind of building that has gutters as part of the design, see. But so they have to fill in the holes with something-or-other (which I forget what it's called) and then seal it all up and there's really no shortcuts for this kind of thing, it just takes time.
Which I completely understand.
Which is WHY I FIRST REPORTED IT IN SEPTEMBER OF LAST YEAR, GODDAMMIT.
And I haven't even told you about the migraine that was my yesterday, people! Here, let me give you the short version:
1. Drive out to the burbs, takes twice as long because of complete gridlock.
2. Get to brother's house, find it impossible to open hood so can replace headlight bulb.
3. Call into house for brother's help with hood before figuring out that it takes 2 people to open the hood because of a fucked-up spring mechanism, so neff helps me.
4. Brother shows up and decides that Car Stuff Is His Territory, even if it's my car, so he insists on replacing bulb himself.
5. Brother drops headlight on driveway, irrevocably damaging the casing.
6. Spend an hour or so with brother, MacGyvering away until the headlight is "secured" in place with wire and twistie ties and bubblegum and hope.
7. Discover I forgot the actual ticket.
8. Am informed by police hat I have to have the ticket.
9. Brother tries to convince me to just pay the $45 fine.
10. Shout at brother that "FUCK them they're not getting my money it's the PRINCIPLE stupid motherfucking fuckers like there are no meth labs to shut down or runaways on the street to find or identity thieves to pursue, no OH NO NO NO they are TOO BUSY handing out citations for burned out headlights so they can make me run around in circles or give them my cold hard cash well FUCK THEM and we fixed the goddamn headlight and I will go to their goddamn station so they can inspect it and they will not get their bullshit fee, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME." (That's a paraphrase.)
11. Drive back into the city to get the ticket. Gridlock
12. Drive out to the police station. Gridlock.
**It has now been 6 solid hours and a half a tank of gas devoted to The Headlight Issue.**
13. Walk into the station with the ticket, the receipt for the headlight bulb (which they say I have to have) and prepared for my car to be inspected for its seaworthiness.
14. Cop glances at the ticket and says "You fixed it?" I say "Yeah."
15. Cop hands me a slip and says "Okay, there's your verification the ticket's been taken care of. Have a nice day."
So you see. I didn't actually need proof. I didn't have to let them see the repair. I didn't even have to really be there. I just had to say "yeah" when they asked if it was fixed.
Because they are fucking assholes who should die, that's why.
Then I came home and was rained upon in my sleep. The end.
Yeah well not soon enough, mister. Here I sit with a massive headache, sleep-deprived, with the drip drip drip drip drip drip all around me and now the sound of them clomping about on the roof. (Um, I thought you said you can't do anything?) It's nice to know they've identified the problem, which is - AS I SAID A MILLION TIMES - in the brick-work of the walls above the window. Like where a gutter would be, but isn't, because this isn't the kind of building that has gutters as part of the design, see. But so they have to fill in the holes with something-or-other (which I forget what it's called) and then seal it all up and there's really no shortcuts for this kind of thing, it just takes time.
Which I completely understand.
Which is WHY I FIRST REPORTED IT IN SEPTEMBER OF LAST YEAR, GODDAMMIT.
And I haven't even told you about the migraine that was my yesterday, people! Here, let me give you the short version:
1. Drive out to the burbs, takes twice as long because of complete gridlock.
2. Get to brother's house, find it impossible to open hood so can replace headlight bulb.
3. Call into house for brother's help with hood before figuring out that it takes 2 people to open the hood because of a fucked-up spring mechanism, so neff helps me.
4. Brother shows up and decides that Car Stuff Is His Territory, even if it's my car, so he insists on replacing bulb himself.
5. Brother drops headlight on driveway, irrevocably damaging the casing.
6. Spend an hour or so with brother, MacGyvering away until the headlight is "secured" in place with wire and twistie ties and bubblegum and hope.
7. Discover I forgot the actual ticket.
8. Am informed by police hat I have to have the ticket.
9. Brother tries to convince me to just pay the $45 fine.
10. Shout at brother that "FUCK them they're not getting my money it's the PRINCIPLE stupid motherfucking fuckers like there are no meth labs to shut down or runaways on the street to find or identity thieves to pursue, no OH NO NO NO they are TOO BUSY handing out citations for burned out headlights so they can make me run around in circles or give them my cold hard cash well FUCK THEM and we fixed the goddamn headlight and I will go to their goddamn station so they can inspect it and they will not get their bullshit fee, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME." (That's a paraphrase.)
11. Drive back into the city to get the ticket. Gridlock
12. Drive out to the police station. Gridlock.
**It has now been 6 solid hours and a half a tank of gas devoted to The Headlight Issue.**
13. Walk into the station with the ticket, the receipt for the headlight bulb (which they say I have to have) and prepared for my car to be inspected for its seaworthiness.
14. Cop glances at the ticket and says "You fixed it?" I say "Yeah."
15. Cop hands me a slip and says "Okay, there's your verification the ticket's been taken care of. Have a nice day."
So you see. I didn't actually need proof. I didn't have to let them see the repair. I didn't even have to really be there. I just had to say "yeah" when they asked if it was fixed.
Because they are fucking assholes who should die, that's why.
Then I came home and was rained upon in my sleep. The end.
Well of course THAT was stupid of me.
Trusting that all was well and it was safe to put on my freshly laundered bed linens and move the furniture back within a foot of the windows again, I mean.
Because I woke up an hour ago. With cold rainwater. Dripping on my pillows.
Again.
Which makes me want to die. Or at least cry. Or, failing that, move out.
Oh whatever. Fuck it all.
Trusting that all was well and it was safe to put on my freshly laundered bed linens and move the furniture back within a foot of the windows again, I mean.
Because I woke up an hour ago. With cold rainwater. Dripping on my pillows.
Again.
Which makes me want to die. Or at least cry. Or, failing that, move out.
Oh whatever. Fuck it all.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Hurray my apartment isn't leaking! HOORAY!
See, this large crew of Eastern European men (who I assumed were Polish, but they coulda been any number of ethnicities, they just shouted to each other in a Polish-sounding language) (note: I am not a linguist) showed up on I think it was Monday or Tuesday and hauled all this equipment, via winch, onto the r0oof above my apartment. Then they spent every day after that walking around up there, shouting Polish-esque to each other, tearing off strips of old roof, throwing said strips into a giant and ultimately overflowing dumpster, and doing unseen things with hot and stinky tar. My landlord was all "it should be done before the weekend" and I was all "it BETTER be because it's gonna rain about a zillion inches this weekend, so we'll just SEE about that, WON'T WE?"
But I had hope, because the last time they "fixed" it, there was not such a production. It was like some dude with a caulking gun who I never saw, or something. Anyway it rained all last night and most this morning and YAY! None of it is in my apartment! It's still supposed to rain more today and all tomorrow, so we'll see if it holds up. But I am extreeeeeemly hopeful that The Saga Of The Leaking Apartment is all over and I can live my life and put up window sheers and buy a couch and stuff like that. Let's all keep our fingers crossed.
So this morning in the wee hours, it was raining reallllly hard and the drops were hitting the bedroom windows quite loudly. (Which is unusual - it usually hits the alley-side windows more.) As a result, I dreamt all about it. In my dream, Bro4 and the eye-talian were staying with me in an apartment that was mine (but not this particular one - it was a dream-invention place) and it was raining. I was like "Okay! We'll see if the roof repair worked, watch!" And the entire ceiling began dripping. In every room. All over, like my roof was made of cheesecloth.
I was unbelievably angry. That's how the dream was like real-life, because as I was telling Heather last night, I really do get irrationally, insanely, murderously crazy-pissed the second the leaks begin. I just lose it, completely. So in the dream I went apeshit and dialed the landlord as I instructed my very startled family to start putting things in boxes, please, I'm moving out RIGHT NOW. To their credit, they didn't hesitate. But then I woke up and realized that it was a dream and I didn't have to move (hopefully) but omg holy cow look at it coming down out there, please please don't let my ceilings be dripping.
And they weren't. Nothing is dripping. Hurray!
Okay, but now I gotta go over to Bro4's place and take care of that dumbass ticket before I have to pay a fine. So I am leaving my currently-dry apartment all alone, with more rain forecast. It should be safe. But I'll still move the furniture away from the windows. Just in case.
See, this large crew of Eastern European men (who I assumed were Polish, but they coulda been any number of ethnicities, they just shouted to each other in a Polish-sounding language) (note: I am not a linguist) showed up on I think it was Monday or Tuesday and hauled all this equipment, via winch, onto the r0oof above my apartment. Then they spent every day after that walking around up there, shouting Polish-esque to each other, tearing off strips of old roof, throwing said strips into a giant and ultimately overflowing dumpster, and doing unseen things with hot and stinky tar. My landlord was all "it should be done before the weekend" and I was all "it BETTER be because it's gonna rain about a zillion inches this weekend, so we'll just SEE about that, WON'T WE?"
But I had hope, because the last time they "fixed" it, there was not such a production. It was like some dude with a caulking gun who I never saw, or something. Anyway it rained all last night and most this morning and YAY! None of it is in my apartment! It's still supposed to rain more today and all tomorrow, so we'll see if it holds up. But I am extreeeeeemly hopeful that The Saga Of The Leaking Apartment is all over and I can live my life and put up window sheers and buy a couch and stuff like that. Let's all keep our fingers crossed.
So this morning in the wee hours, it was raining reallllly hard and the drops were hitting the bedroom windows quite loudly. (Which is unusual - it usually hits the alley-side windows more.) As a result, I dreamt all about it. In my dream, Bro4 and the eye-talian were staying with me in an apartment that was mine (but not this particular one - it was a dream-invention place) and it was raining. I was like "Okay! We'll see if the roof repair worked, watch!" And the entire ceiling began dripping. In every room. All over, like my roof was made of cheesecloth.
I was unbelievably angry. That's how the dream was like real-life, because as I was telling Heather last night, I really do get irrationally, insanely, murderously crazy-pissed the second the leaks begin. I just lose it, completely. So in the dream I went apeshit and dialed the landlord as I instructed my very startled family to start putting things in boxes, please, I'm moving out RIGHT NOW. To their credit, they didn't hesitate. But then I woke up and realized that it was a dream and I didn't have to move (hopefully) but omg holy cow look at it coming down out there, please please don't let my ceilings be dripping.
And they weren't. Nothing is dripping. Hurray!
Okay, but now I gotta go over to Bro4's place and take care of that dumbass ticket before I have to pay a fine. So I am leaving my currently-dry apartment all alone, with more rain forecast. It should be safe. But I'll still move the furniture away from the windows. Just in case.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Oh well - the Gay Gun lost. Quigley won, which I don't mind too much - he actually seems like a decent guy (shocking since he's been high up in the game so long); he just sets off my irrational-suspicion sensors.
And it turns out I can't vote for the Green or the Republican who will be running, not even to tweak Pelosi. My god, you guys wonder why we kept Blagojevic in office? Look at what the opposition is in this state. They're all like straw men come to life. Makes my skin crawl. Eeeesh.
End local politic talk.
Begin bitching about my leaking roof.
Actually, let's not because it exhausts me and I'm already exhausted enough. They're "fixing" the roof "again", and all will allegedly be fine in 2-3 days. WHY they can fix it in 20 degree weather today when they INSIST they couldn't fix it in the same temps of the last 4 months, is beyond me. But I think I'll hold half my rent ransom until the next heavy rains, to see what happens. And I'll still look for a new place to live, motherfuckers. Nyah.
Okay okay, night night.
And it turns out I can't vote for the Green or the Republican who will be running, not even to tweak Pelosi. My god, you guys wonder why we kept Blagojevic in office? Look at what the opposition is in this state. They're all like straw men come to life. Makes my skin crawl. Eeeesh.
End local politic talk.
Begin bitching about my leaking roof.
Actually, let's not because it exhausts me and I'm already exhausted enough. They're "fixing" the roof "again", and all will allegedly be fine in 2-3 days. WHY they can fix it in 20 degree weather today when they INSIST they couldn't fix it in the same temps of the last 4 months, is beyond me. But I think I'll hold half my rent ransom until the next heavy rains, to see what happens. And I'll still look for a new place to live, motherfuckers. Nyah.
Okay okay, night night.
Happy Tuesday, I have voted. Yes, voted! Let it be known throughout the lands from the mighty to the lowly that I HAVE VOTED!
I know you're all just on pins and noodles about this Illinois 5th Congressional District Special Primary Election (IFCDSPE for short!), so I'll end the suspense for you: I voted for Geoghegan. I don't even like the guy, to be honest. He's too lefty for my tastes, all frothy about the mouth and banging on about spending more on Social Security and shit like that. Not that I have anything against Social Security, you understand, but I just think: really? All the causes you could espouse, all the investments to be made, and this is what gets you most fired up? And I'm always leery of politicians who are all "the unions love me!" because I have lived in this area my whole life, and let me tell you: the love of a union is an abusive love, in this town. You ever stop putting out, you'll have nothing but a black eye and a handful of protestations about how you're the only one who understands him.
Not that Geoghehegannygangan is an awful candidate or anything - he's just not my cuppa. He's got some good ideas and his heart at least appears to be in the right place (ie: sincerely wanting to do positive things to help ordinary people, as opposed to being motivated by some kind of societal revenge plot) so I don't mind him too much. I really wanted to vote for this guy named Wheelan, who is an economist and has no political experience. Totally perfect, since I think we could use more educated experts to counter all that ignorant posturing going on. But like no one except me has even heard of him around here. He's not so hot with the community outreachy stuff, and when there are twelve (12!) names on the ballot, you gotta work harder than that. So through some brilliant calculations, I decided on Geoghegan based on the following math:
1. I must vote on the Democrat side, since a Republican will never win in this district
-- (12 candidates meet this qualification)
2. Candidate must have a strong following so vote is not a complete waste
-- (Geogehegunnysack, Quigley, Fritchey, Feigenholtz, O'Connor qualify)
3. Cannot be part of The Machine
-- (bye, O'Connor and Fritchey!) (and Fritchey quit your bitchin about "I am the ethical new face of the party!" because EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT FAMILY YOU MARRIED INTO. Plus Dick Mell backs you, for fucksakes - typical internecine Chicago politics and I'll have none of it.)
4. Must not have been a Democratic state congressperson for more than say 5 years
-- (bye Feigenholtz!)
5. Preferably not a familiar name, or an Irish name, or has a lot of money for campaigning, because all of those are just little red flags that make me suspicious on principle
-- (so long, Quigley!)
And so that left me with this Geoghegan, which is pronounced, hilariously, like "GAY-gun". The Gay Gun from Chicago! Awesome!
Of course, even more awesome is my new thought which is that when the real Dem v. Rep v. green (yes, we have those!) election comes along in a month, maybe I'll vote for the Republican. Just because I like to be ornery like that. Plus, in addition to it being a bird flipped in the general direction of the Illinois Democrats, I like the idea of annoying Nancy Pelosi with another Republican in her midst, especially when she's so sure it'll always be a Democrat in that seat. There's something about her that makes me want to biff her right in her smug granny kisser. So it'd be a twofer, see. (But I wanted to make sure the Dem candidate was not a total outrage, because as aforementioned: Dems always win here. That's why I bothered today with the Gay Gun, even though in the end I may go R in the end.)
This has been an exciting journey through the civic mind of Beth! It was fun, huh? Huh? Am I right? No admission fee, even! This is your TOTALLY FREE entertainment, people!
Of course, you could also just go read Kate or jmc, because they did SBD and that is always nice.
I know you're all just on pins and noodles about this Illinois 5th Congressional District Special Primary Election (IFCDSPE for short!), so I'll end the suspense for you: I voted for Geoghegan. I don't even like the guy, to be honest. He's too lefty for my tastes, all frothy about the mouth and banging on about spending more on Social Security and shit like that. Not that I have anything against Social Security, you understand, but I just think: really? All the causes you could espouse, all the investments to be made, and this is what gets you most fired up? And I'm always leery of politicians who are all "the unions love me!" because I have lived in this area my whole life, and let me tell you: the love of a union is an abusive love, in this town. You ever stop putting out, you'll have nothing but a black eye and a handful of protestations about how you're the only one who understands him.
Not that Geoghehegannygangan is an awful candidate or anything - he's just not my cuppa. He's got some good ideas and his heart at least appears to be in the right place (ie: sincerely wanting to do positive things to help ordinary people, as opposed to being motivated by some kind of societal revenge plot) so I don't mind him too much. I really wanted to vote for this guy named Wheelan, who is an economist and has no political experience. Totally perfect, since I think we could use more educated experts to counter all that ignorant posturing going on. But like no one except me has even heard of him around here. He's not so hot with the community outreachy stuff, and when there are twelve (12!) names on the ballot, you gotta work harder than that. So through some brilliant calculations, I decided on Geoghegan based on the following math:
1. I must vote on the Democrat side, since a Republican will never win in this district
-- (12 candidates meet this qualification)
2. Candidate must have a strong following so vote is not a complete waste
-- (Geogehegunnysack, Quigley, Fritchey, Feigenholtz, O'Connor qualify)
3. Cannot be part of The Machine
-- (bye, O'Connor and Fritchey!) (and Fritchey quit your bitchin about "I am the ethical new face of the party!" because EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT FAMILY YOU MARRIED INTO. Plus Dick Mell backs you, for fucksakes - typical internecine Chicago politics and I'll have none of it.)
4. Must not have been a Democratic state congressperson for more than say 5 years
-- (bye Feigenholtz!)
5. Preferably not a familiar name, or an Irish name, or has a lot of money for campaigning, because all of those are just little red flags that make me suspicious on principle
-- (so long, Quigley!)
And so that left me with this Geoghegan, which is pronounced, hilariously, like "GAY-gun". The Gay Gun from Chicago! Awesome!
Of course, even more awesome is my new thought which is that when the real Dem v. Rep v. green (yes, we have those!) election comes along in a month, maybe I'll vote for the Republican. Just because I like to be ornery like that. Plus, in addition to it being a bird flipped in the general direction of the Illinois Democrats, I like the idea of annoying Nancy Pelosi with another Republican in her midst, especially when she's so sure it'll always be a Democrat in that seat. There's something about her that makes me want to biff her right in her smug granny kisser. So it'd be a twofer, see. (But I wanted to make sure the Dem candidate was not a total outrage, because as aforementioned: Dems always win here. That's why I bothered today with the Gay Gun, even though in the end I may go R in the end.)
This has been an exciting journey through the civic mind of Beth! It was fun, huh? Huh? Am I right? No admission fee, even! This is your TOTALLY FREE entertainment, people!
Of course, you could also just go read Kate or jmc, because they did SBD and that is always nice.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Who among ye shall SBD? Anyone?
I dunno if I will. I haven't read a damn thing, and I seem to be so thoroughly DONE with the Romance genre, that I couldn't come up with a fun topic if I wracked my brain all day.
But if you got anything, go for it. I'll see what I can scrape up.
I dunno if I will. I haven't read a damn thing, and I seem to be so thoroughly DONE with the Romance genre, that I couldn't come up with a fun topic if I wracked my brain all day.
But if you got anything, go for it. I'll see what I can scrape up.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Redecorating!
Um yeah hi, I decided I was sick of gray. So here we are with blue daisies. I thought it was a nice compromise between delicate new springtime and freezing howling wind and icy snow that won't fucking STOP already.
Or as we call it around here: March.
Um yeah hi, I decided I was sick of gray. So here we are with blue daisies. I thought it was a nice compromise between delicate new springtime and freezing howling wind and icy snow that won't fucking STOP already.
Or as we call it around here: March.
Awake awake awake. No reason for it really, but here I am.
I'm doing pretty good, you know, most days. I'm not quite as deliriously happy as I was, but I'm still finding life quite pleasant, and I feel mostly very stable. It's nice. It's boring, but it's nice. It did take rather a lot of work to get here - and a lot of work to maintain it all - so I'm not likely to take any of it for granted anytime soon.
But still. There are some missing things. I don't think about them much at all. Just on nights when I wake up in the wee hours and can't sleep and stat contemplating my whole life, and whatnot. At least now I don't fall to pieces about it, or whatever. At least I feel slightly more sane, even if it's just a feeling and not the reality. You know like in movies or whatever, when someone gets challenged about how they're avoiding something, or passing up some great opportunity, doing something that seems rather stupid - and some other character who cares confronts them, saying how it's not but fear? You're just scared, they say. You're not being smart, you're just being scared. Then the you're supposed to get all fired up and prove the person wrong, I'm not scared lookit me!
The thing is that, in real life, if that were me? I mostly just think Yeah, I'm very scared. That's why I'm acting this way. So? I mean, what - why do we have to be brave and conquer demons all the fucking time? I'm not Wonder Woman, here. Maybe some things would make my life better in the end, if I just made myself try to to tackle it. Maybe it'd make my life worse. Maybe it'd make me stronger, or not. But there is like a limit to how many terrors you can overcome in a lifetime. Say I was afraid of boats - would it really be a big-ass deal if I went my whole life without ever going on a boat again? I'm sure some people consider sailing to be absolutely necessary and essential to their happiness on earth, but I am not those people.
Blah blah blah. I should sleep. Or try to. I wish I had a book I was intereted in reading, but alas. Maybe I'll watch old episodes of Buffy until I drop off somwhere around dawn. Sounds like a plan.
I'm doing pretty good, you know, most days. I'm not quite as deliriously happy as I was, but I'm still finding life quite pleasant, and I feel mostly very stable. It's nice. It's boring, but it's nice. It did take rather a lot of work to get here - and a lot of work to maintain it all - so I'm not likely to take any of it for granted anytime soon.
But still. There are some missing things. I don't think about them much at all. Just on nights when I wake up in the wee hours and can't sleep and stat contemplating my whole life, and whatnot. At least now I don't fall to pieces about it, or whatever. At least I feel slightly more sane, even if it's just a feeling and not the reality. You know like in movies or whatever, when someone gets challenged about how they're avoiding something, or passing up some great opportunity, doing something that seems rather stupid - and some other character who cares confronts them, saying how it's not but fear? You're just scared, they say. You're not being smart, you're just being scared. Then the you're supposed to get all fired up and prove the person wrong, I'm not scared lookit me!
The thing is that, in real life, if that were me? I mostly just think Yeah, I'm very scared. That's why I'm acting this way. So? I mean, what - why do we have to be brave and conquer demons all the fucking time? I'm not Wonder Woman, here. Maybe some things would make my life better in the end, if I just made myself try to to tackle it. Maybe it'd make my life worse. Maybe it'd make me stronger, or not. But there is like a limit to how many terrors you can overcome in a lifetime. Say I was afraid of boats - would it really be a big-ass deal if I went my whole life without ever going on a boat again? I'm sure some people consider sailing to be absolutely necessary and essential to their happiness on earth, but I am not those people.
Blah blah blah. I should sleep. Or try to. I wish I had a book I was intereted in reading, but alas. Maybe I'll watch old episodes of Buffy until I drop off somwhere around dawn. Sounds like a plan.
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