Blognote

This Guy rocks. Not only did his post make me laugh when I wanted to cry yesterday, but he then came on over and checked out my blog. Which, in the world of Blog, is really nice. [Plus, he has one of those cute little cyberpets. I have pet fish stories as well, btw.] Thanks dude!

The Captain and Religion

Can I just say that there is nothing I'd rather do when buzzed on Captain & ginger after a crappy week than debate the merits of religion in a bar full of people I went to high school with, whose names I can't remember? One of my old friends was home from San Francisco for the holidays, and we went out last night for a few hours with her brother. Her brother has just ended an on again/off again relationship with a girl who is extremely religious. Usually a pretty quiet guy, but wow, did I get him going. It was great. And why, I wonder, are people who would never have spoken to me 10 years ago suddenly so freaking happy to see me? You'd think they'd won the fucking lottery or something. I can't even remember half their names, but they all remember mine, apparently. Not bad for the girl who was labeled "The Really Nice Nerdy Girl" by the cool kids in high school. My boobs must have been looking fabulous last night.

[Note to you 17-year-olds: Be nice to the nerdy kids. Not only will they grow up to be filthy rich, they will also have become so insecure that they will end up growing proportionately more attractive as the hot ones become less so. Whether this is because they become more socially adept or just have enough money for cosmetic surgery is irrelevant. Also, they tend to hold grudges against those who stuffed them in lockers or spread rumors about their gym clothes. That kind of shit stays with you, man.]

Ha

I'm having a horrid little wonder of a 3-day week at work, but this made me laugh out loud today. And after that awful 400lb freshman boy tried to eat me earlier, it's taking quite a lot to make me laugh...

Quote Stealer

I stole this one from The Waiter today:

“With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.” – Steven Weinberg

I'm Jack Handley

Deep thought for the day:

Is there a difference between "The Meaning of Life" and "The Meaning of My Life"? And is the answer always 42?

Bring Yourself Back

I am drinking quite possibly the best cup of Dunkin Donuts french vanilla coffee I have ever had right now. Mmmmmmm. AND I hit every light on Washington Avenue Extention at green this morning. For many of you that will mean nothing, but for you Albanites - you're impressed, right? Don't lie. You know you are.

Break Stuff

Note to self:

Next time I get broken up with out of the blue, I need to trash the fucker's apartment the way Kelly Clarkson does in the video for Since U Been Gone. It looks like fun and therapy all rolled into one...



[Yeah, after Ghostbusters I watched Dodgeball, but that's over so I've moved on the VH1. There's really, really, really nothing on tv today.]

Non-Holiday

I'm blogging on Christmas Day. I may be the only person blogging on Christmas Day (though I doubt it). That's the thing about growing up the lone Jewish kid on the block... Christmas Day becomes the big, boring, nothing holiday. It's a non-holiday. For you gentiles (I feel that if someone else is allowed to refer to me as a "heathen", I'm allowed to refer to all of you goyim as gentiles) it's all hyped about church and presents and dinner and family. For us Jews, it's enforced imprisonment. Due to the sheer absence of things to do and places to go, we are driven to spend the day doing absolutely nothing with each other. Your holiday effectively becomes my day of torture. You may be enduring family-hell as well, but at least your hell is encased by an allegedly joyful, spiritual and religious event (although it's to be noted that the commercialization of Christmas is so extreme that the meaning may have been lost long ago). There is food and candlelight and sparkly trees and wrapping paper. I've got Ghostbusters and a box of Kung Pow Chicken. And my mother, who will not go away, crabby because she ate too much at the holiday party last night and now feels that she's obese. Because there's no other distraction, I get to hear about it. All day.

Hopefully this puts things in perspective for all of you having doubts and frustrations this holiday season. If my gut-wrenching boredom and misery has made at least one person feel better about his/her life (whether "heathen" or "gentile"), my day will have not been an entire waste of oxygen. So Happy Holidays to all. May your feast, whether Kung-Pow or Rack of Lamb be warm and filling.


[It should be noted that when I refer to myself as a Jew, these days I consider it more of a cultural self-identification than a religious one. I am not a religious person. If you want to get technical, I'm probably more Agnostic than anything else. I've found, however, (as most people do) that it is very hard to separate one's self entirely from her childhood environment and family ties.Besides... I'm partial to lighting lots of candles.]

RIP Ipod (you piece of overpriced shit)

I just got back from the gym. My Ipod has died! I don't know what I'm going to do! And good grief, could it have happened at a worse time? Like the Apple store won't be a complete and utter zoo in the next two days when I try to get there and have their sad little IT guys poke and prod at it, only to confirm that, 'yep, it sure is dead, miss'. Because I know that's what is going to happen. Oh, the AGONY!!!!

Tis The Season

I love my job.

Really - I do. Or rather, I love where my job is headed. It's hard to truly "love" being at the bottom of the food chain, but knowing you're probably on the right track is a pretty good feeling. A relatively new feeling for me, in fact.

But there are days - days like today - that make me feel like I'm living in Office Space and want nothing more than to gut a fish on my desk while playing Atari and stealing all of the holiday food from the back room, followed by a good solid pen-in-the-eye. Maybe throw a stapler or two. As I've mentioned before, I work at a private 4-year college, and all of the students are officially on break between semesters. Yet the staff and administration (not faculty, it should be noted) are here on campus... with nothing to do. The pointlessness of my meaningless existence becomes glaringly obvious on days like today. I feel like a typewriter. Typewriters are completely and utterly obsolete, yet they're still sitting around there somewhere. Doing nothing.

I also spend the majority of my time at work answering phones. Students ask a lot of questions. Parents ask even more. We all know that all people seem to come down with a case of the crazies (and crankies) around the holidays, which seems to make them significantly less pleasant to speak with than your average unpleasant phone-encounter. [Especially considering the fact that we're politely reminding them about their 13k tuition payments that will be due immediately after the New Year.] Another interesting phenomena I've noticed is that, when faced with the prospect of a weekend, vacation or holiday, the phone rings exponentially more immediately preceeding said time off. The mere concept that we will be unreachable for the better part of the next 48 (or, god forbid, 96) hours instill fear and loathing in the hearts of anxious college students and their parents, which leads to pure panic. As a result, the day before my paltry 2 days of vacation is never pleasant.

Scratch that. I have zero intention or desire to gut a fish on my desk. I don't gut things. It's not in my nature. I'm much more of a "cut the line and hope the hook works itself free" kind of girl.

Happy Is A Yuppy Word

Right now I am completely obsessed with my new Switchfoot album, Nothing Is Sound.

For Casey

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow some-
times in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We
grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm,
childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle
and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We
are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
--Anaia Ninn

But Honey, It's Cold Outside

Just for the record, I am 100% on board with Opinionista's sentiment today about the NYC Transit Strike. I was once a miserable, rat-caged Manhattanite, and I am in total agreement.

Triple X

Why does everyone with a profile on MySpace think s/he is a porn star? Come on now, give me a break. You live in Albany. Working at DeCarlo's (one of maybe 3 strip clubs in the area) does not qualify you as the next Jenna Jameson (or Ron Jeremy).

For example, "Dreamy" who is 26, from Albany. Her posted picture is of her skinny, coked-out butt sticking out of a pink miniskirt (no underwear) with a white bra. Oh, and knee socks - to make her look wholesome. Her interests include (in this order): her son, music, dancing, tattoos, sex, parties, friends, drinking, Yankees & Giants, reading & traveling (I'd be curious as to what she reads - I'm doubting it's Vonnegut or Nietzsche), Vermont, poker, the beach and the city.

Or take "P", 25, from Schenectady. He is flexing with his shirt off (alternating between the stylish bowtie and no-bowtie) in every picture he's posted. There are 6. Who takes 6 pictures of himself shirtless? Accordingly, every one of his "friends" seem to have much in common with "Dreamy". He has no male friends. He also, apparently, has no interests. "P" is single and, shockingly, Catholic.

During my relatively short time on MySpace in support of Casey, I have seen more unfortunate nakedness than I care to relive. I guess this just goes to reaffirm that the Internet is one weird, wild, strange cyberplace...

Back In Rare Form

Why, hello there. My, how I've missed you, my anonymous blog-friends.

Ahh, the holidays. 'Tis the season for temper tantrums, screaming babies, crazy drivers, holiday cards, fat-laden food, heartburn, blackout punch, Christmas tree fires, sappy tv, and my favorite: New Year's Eve dress shopping... remind me again why people love it so much? No, I'm serious. Help me out here. Last year was so bad that I literally have The Holiday Season of 2004 blocked out in my memory, like it was some kind of awful traumatic event. Someone please give me one (or more) good reason why I should deck the halls and be cheerful?

And if one more person wishes me a Merry Christmas, I may punch him or her in the face.

MIA

Sorry guys, I've been way too busy doing homework and trying to survive my first semester of grad school to to post. Give me a few days, I'll be back. Amuse yourselves until then.

A Little Quote Action

The only index by which to judge a government or a way of
life is by the quality of the people it acts upon. No matter
how noble the objectives of a government, if it blurs
decency and kindness, cheapens human life, and breeds ill
will and suspicion - it is an evil government.
-Eric Hoffer

Eliminate physical clutter. More importantly, eliminate
spiritual clutter.
--D.H. Mondfleur

Vocabulary enables us to interpret and to express. If you
have a limited vocabulary, you will also have a limited
vision and a limited future.
-Jim Rohn

In Case You're Ready to Go...

How to Leave the Planet

1. Phone NASA. Their phone number is (713) 483-3111. Explain that it's very important that you get away as soon as possible.
2. If they do not cooperate, phone any friend you may have in the White House - (202) 456-1414 - to have a word on your behalf with the guy at NASA.
3. If you don't have any friends in the White House, phone the Kremlin (ask the oversease operator for 0107-095-295-9051). They don't have any friends there either (at least none to speak of), but they do seem to have a little influence, so you may as well try.
4. If that also fails, phone the Pope for guidance. His telephone number is 011-39-6-6982, and I gather his switchboard is infallible.
5. If all these attempts fail, flag down a passing flying saucer and explain that it's vitally important you get away before your phone bill arrives.

~Douglas Adams, Intro to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Of A Revolution

..and I said 'Johnny whatcha doing tonight?'
he looked at me with a face full of fright
and I said 'how about a revolution?'
and he said 'right'...

Don't mind me, I went to an OAR show last night. Definitely felt old - don't these college kids today know that OAR is my generation, not theirs? Casey and I agreed that OAR beats Phish and Trey Anastasio, hands down, any day. I'll take 17 year olds acting stupid over cokeheads asking to borrow my car keys to bump lines any day of the week...

A Healthy Dose of Feminism

If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it.
--Margaret Fuller, Feminist and poet

Cautious, careful people always casting about to preserve
their reputation or social standards never can bring about
reform. Those who are really in earnest are willing to be
anything or nothing in the world's estimation, and publicly
and privately, in season and out, avow their sympathies
with despised ideas and their advocates, and bear the
consequences.
--Susan B. Anthony, Abolitionist, Suffragist

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations.
I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their
beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.
--Louisa May Alcott, Author of "Little Women"

Pre-Coffee Musings

1 - Why is there so much more traffifc on Thursday mornings than the rest of the week?

2 - Why is Matthew McConaughey the sexiest man alive? I'm sorry, but I do not agree. I can pick 5 right of the top of my head that beat him out, hands down. 5 non-Texan, non-Republican sexier men...

Link Myself

Is it obnoxious to link to my own posts? Because there's this one and this one that I just found today while reading (yes, I am so bored that I'm reading my own blog) that are really kind of funny...

Sidebar: Could it please stop raining for 10 minutes so that I can get to my car without getting DRENCHED?

Milestones...

Today is my 1-year anniversary of freedom. Singlehood. Dumped-ness. Whatever you want to call it. The point is, a year ago today was the day I thought my life is over. [Drama queen, I know.] I don't really feel like re-living the humiliation while providing a play-by-play (and considering my penchant for self-flaggelation, I'm going to take this as a positive improvement over my previous state) but suffice it to say that it was bad. The good news is, it's finally starting to feel like that night was a really bad dream... one of those dreams that just takes a while to shake off. In my case, it apparently took the better part of a year... but hey, who's counting?

We'll All Float On...

For the record, I know I haven't been doing much actual writing lately... it's been a lot of quotes and whatnot. Rest assured that my brain hasn't shut off - I've still got lots and lots of ideas swimming around in my head (especially right now, fresh from an almost-3-mile run) that I'd like to talk about, I'm just having trouble capturing and tacking them down on paper when I actually have the time to do so.

I will stop a moment and say this (but bear with me, because I don't know if I'll articulate it in a way that makes much sense): Lately I've been feeling... alive again. In the last few months, the parts of me that felt alternately crushed, sad, dead, and numb seem to have come back with that feeling of pins and needles, like when your foot falls asleep and then wakes back up. I feel like this huge weight that I've been lugging around that I didn't know how to get rid of seems to have evaporated, and I'm feeling much lighter. The only phrase that comes to mind when I try to describe what I've been experiencing is the name of a book by Milan Kundera - The Unbearable Lightness of Being...

Another Song to Live By

Maybe I've been the problem,
maybe I'm the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and play myself,
the outcome feels the same
I've been thinkin maybe I've been partly cloudy,
maybe I'm the chance of rain
Maybe I'm overcast,
and maybe all my luck's washed down the drain

I've been thinking 'bout everyone,
everyone you look so lonely

But when I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars I see someone else

When I look at the stars,
the stars, I feel like myself

Stars lookin' at our planet watching entropy and pain
And maybe start to wonder
how the chaos in our lives could pass as sane
I've been thinking bout the meaning of resistance,
of a hope beyond my own
And suddenly the infinite and penitent
begin to look like home.

I've been thinking bout everyone,
everyone you look so empty

But when I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars I see someone else

When I look at the stars,
the stars, I feel like myself

everyone, everyone you feel so lonely
everyone, yeah everyone you feel so empty

When I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars I feel like myself

When I look at the stars, the stars
I see someone...

~ Switchfoot, Stars

What Is It Good For?

Of all the enemies to public liberty war is, perhaps, the
most to be dreaded because it comprises and develops the
germ of every other. War is the parent of armies; from these
proceed debts and taxes...known instruments for bringing
the many under the domination of the few. . . No nation
could preserve its freedom in the midst of continual
warfare.
--James Madison, Political Observations, 1795

It's Quote Time!

One needs something to believe in, something for which one
can have whole-hearted enthusiasm. One needs to feel that
one's life has meaning, that one is needed in this world.
--Hannah Senesh


If you were all alone in the universe with no one to talk
to, no one with which to share the beauty of the stars, to
laugh with, to touch, what would be your purpose in life?
It is other life, it is love, which gives your life meaning.
This is harmony. We must discover the joy of each other,
the joy of challenge, the joy of growth.
--Mitsugi Saotome

Hampster Wheel

I have a serious gym-related pet peeve.

If you are going to be on a machine at the gym, shut your fucking cell phone off. I'm serious. There may be nothing more annoying on the PLANET than a gym cell-phone talker. I'm on a treadmill running my ass off. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, my chest is burning and I'm hauling my ass, sweating like a pig and breathing like I'm... well, running my ass off. Sometimes I'm concerned that I'm even personally irritating others around me by BREATHING TOO LOUD. There are 20 other equally miserable - and equally SILENT - people surrounding me. None of us want to hear the tall, pretty, skinny blonde with her little beer gut strolling on the elliptical machine in her Tiffany jewelry not even breaking a sweat chit-chat with her BFF about their bar-hopping plans for the evening, and how Orlando Bloom is "oh my God, SOOO cute" and her vintage blazer is "oh my God, SOOO last spring". The endorphins and adrenaline coursing through my veins could, in fact, potentially cause me to think that strangling her with my own bare hands and drowning her in a pool of sweat might actually be fun. Never mind that I'm doing all of this running and am completely unsuccessful in getting away from the source of my agitation. This only manages to ADD to my annoyance.

So just shut it the hell off for your 20 minute "workout", okay? Thanks.

Silence

"A lot of things happen when you shut up."

~Mike Bologna

QOTD 10/21/05

If there must be trouble let it be in my day, that my child
may have peace.
--Thomas Paine

Pounding the Pavement

I decided yesterday that I wish there were a direct line from my brain to my blog while running. There's just so much... stuff... that goes on in there while I'm pounding through my neighborhood with Audioslave pulsing through my headphones. I go everywhere in my head while I'm out running, but when I come home to trap it all down into solid word form, it seems to disappear. Running has become such a catharsis... so much so that I wish that I could save just a little bit of what I get out of me. It would make for some good blogging, I think.



Time hasn't stopped for any troubles, heartaches, or any
other malfunctions of this world, so please don't tell me
it will stop for you.
--C.S. Lewis

A Modern Fairy Tale

Once Upon A Time...

In a land far away,
a beautiful, independent,
self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat,
contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond
in a verdant meadow near her castle.
The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: Elegant Lady,
I was once a handsome prince,
until an evil witch cast a spell upon me.
One kiss from you, however,
and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet,
we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother,
where you can prepare my meals,
clean my clothes, bear my children,
and forever feel grateful and happy doing so.
That night,
as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed frog legs
seasoned in a white wine
and onion cream sauce,
she chuckled and thought to herself:
I don't frick'n think so.

Discover...Nitrous Oxide

I have decided that there must be something in the water that Discover Card feeds its employees. Every single person I've ever spoken to that was affiliated with Discover has been frighteningly perky and chipper. Either they drug the crap out of the peons, or it's just a really really REALLY great place to work!

I'm putting money on the drugs.

In Honor of Yom Kippur

Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views
beyond the comprehension of the weak; and that it is doing
God's service when it is violating all his laws.
--John Adams

Just One More Mile...

What's the difference between running and running away?

Late Shift Blues

I work the 'late shift' on Wednesdays. This means that I come in at 9:30 instead of 8 and stay until 6 instead of 4:30. I don't mind the late shift. In fact, I kind of like it. Traffic isn't as bad (both ways), the morning goes by fast, and usually it gets very quiet after 4, which means I can be productive. The problem with the late shift is parking. As in, there never is any (especially when the weather sucks). Students and faculty snap up every available inch of space by 8:15. The lots are full, the streets are full, even the handicapped spots are full... today I spent 25 minutes driving around in circles to find a spot, each circle bringing me a block further from where I need to be.

When we were together, The Ex moved into a 1-bedroom apartment 3 blocks away from the office I work in now. Correction: I moved Ex into that apartment. This morning, I found myself on that street, in the rain, in front of that building, desperately hoping for a parking spot. What I saw instead was that the porch was empty of sports equipment, trash bags, lawn chairs, and there was a giant American flag fluttering from the front window. Ex clearly doesn't live there anymore.

This didn't make me sad or make me cry... but it did give me a very weird feeling. One day he's just no longer there. He no longer lives in an apartment that holds memories of us... in fact, he probably now lives with his new girlfriend [whom I fondly refer to as The Bride of Frankenstein] somewhere else. A year ago, I thought it would be me he'd move in with after the apartment on Ridgefield. It's like he's started a brand new life and been wiped off my radar... but I know he's still floating around the area. Who knows how long he's been gone from that place. Now, strangers live in an apartment that was practically my second home.

The way people's lives and paths cross and continue forward is so interesting... and in some ways, sad. It's been almost a year, and I think I can say that I know I'm going to be alright. I can't remember the last time I cried myself to sleep over him, or over a song that reminded me of him. I still get sad and miss the relationship, but I'm okay with it being over. I just wish sometimes that there could be a way to avoid amputating people from your life so unceremoniously. Or if so, they could be amputated from your heart as easily. Sitting in my car, in front of a stranger's apartment was a warped reminder of how nice it would be if things were that easy.

Life... Or Something Like It

It's a dreary Monday morning - dark and gray. What's worse is that it's Columbus Day, and everyone in the world is sleeping in... except me. Granted, I don't really want to celebrate the takeover and eventual exploitation of an entire race of people, skewed by American history to appear noble instead of barbaric ... but it's still depressing to be one of the few at work. I even got a spot in the "good" parking lot this morning.

Wow, is this what my life has become? Ecstasy over a new work computer and switching desks, angling for a spot in the "good" parking lot, looking for conveniently sized photos of my loved ones to stare at while I get verbally abused for my $10 an hour every day? Making sure I have "sensible" shoes and my shirts are "work appropriate"? Looking forward to Friday Jean Day? It's like Office Space, only more pathetic.

Then again... was my life any more meaningful before? Getting drunk and having empty interaction with other college students, searching for the latest trend and hottest shoes, seeing amazing women create endless drama with boys who never really cared about them, watching The Bachelor every week? Practicing quadratic equations that I would never again use after the open-notebook open-textbook exam? Pretending to read deep and meaningful literature, fibbing my way out of late grades on assignments?

It's funny... my generation complains about feeling stifled when thrown into the workplace to work the 9-5 grind, as if our worths have been compromised and our intellects marginalized. As if that hadn't happened ALREADY... we blame"growing up" as the cause. I wonder, however, if the growing up is instead the force that peels the veil of self-illusion back, forcing us to come to the realization of our own lack of meaning.

Maybe I'll just go for a run.

Pee Party

Why do female college students feel compelled to pee on every seat in every bathroom in the building I work in? Don't they know they're GIRLS??? Who DOES that?

The Quote Nerd

More than one good quote today:

The dissenter is every human being at those moments of his
life when he resigns momentarily from the herd and thinks
for himself.
--Archibald Macleish


There are men - now in power in this country - who do not
respect dissent, who cannot cope with turmoil, and who be-
lieve that the people of America are ready to support
repression as long as it is done with a quiet voice and a
business suit.
--John Lindsay, former Mayor of New York City



The difference between what we do and what we are
capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the
world's problems.
-- Mahatma Gandhi

Revelations

It hit me like a sack of bricks tonight -- the reason I adore Aiden on Sex and the City? He's an emotionally available copy of my ex-boyfriend.

Somebody kill me.

Casey's Letter to the Nut People

Hi, I recently purchased your "Fancy Pistachios" and found some bug larvae inside of them and almost threw up. That's absolutely disgusting and unacceptable to have bugs inside of your nuts and I have never come across bugs in any other nuts I have eaten. I will happily send you the container plus the bug larvae I saved, in its shell, but I want my money back.

~CD

11/15/05

I've been really, really bad about running lately. That is to say, I haven't been running at all. Finally fed up with myself today, I got my butt back outside and went for a run on this beautiful fall day. (Okay, mostly walk, but after 2 months of zero exercise, what do you expect?). Anyway, I "ran" today, and I felt great afterwards, despite my fat lard status. I set myself a goal: I want to back in shape - in fact in even better shape - and able to run 3 miles by November. November 15th, 2005 is going to be the day I can run at least 3 miles without it being a stretch.

November 15th. That's the day I need something really good to happen.

Let's Play Chicken!

New thing I learned today:

Apparently, you do not have to be a certified (or licensed, or whatever it is they do) traffic guard to stand in an intersection during rush hour and direct traffic. You just have to have the colossal balls of steel to stand there, wave your arms around, and - surprise, surprise - the people in the cars will obey. Even when there's no apparent REASON for you to be doing so.

Hmm. I think this is something that warrants further study. I may need a volunteer to play in traffic for me while I... observe...

More Than Occaisionally

Someday I hope the day will come

When I won't think of you

Before my coffee's done...

~Long Story Short

(check them out on MySpace)

"Growing Up" Sucks

You know what stunk? Graduation.

Syracuse class of 2003 - I miss you guys. A lot.



[stupid back-to-back episodes of Felicity]

Silver Bells...

It's 8:05am and there's showtunes coming out of one of the offices behind me. It just flashed me back to the winter of 2003, when I was working at Lifetime TV. There was this woman in the cubicle next to mine who turned on her Christmas music station the day after Thanksgiving and played it every day until December 25th. By the end of the month, I was ready to stick my head in an oven.

Just a reminder of how much I'm NOT looking forward to the holidays...

Who Am I? (you get 3 guesses)

The less justified a man is in claiming excellence for his
own self, the more ready he is to claim all excellence for
his nation, his religion, his race or his holy cause. A man
is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding.
When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless
affairs by minding other people's business.
--Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

Test of the Emergency Broadcast System

While Bush is doing his Address to the Nation, I think I'll write my Address to W.

Hey, Mr. "President" guy - could you do me a favor? If you're going to continue killing everyone, fucking up the world, the environment, the nation, the economy, the lives of my friends and my own life, could you do me a favor? Could you NOT fuck up my tv-watching schedule? Just go back to doing what you do best (otherwise known as 'vacationing') and please get your illiterate face off of my television screen. You're interrupting my regularly-scheduled programming, and I was really looking forward to tonight's episode of Reunion.

It's a relief that the man isn't articulate or intelligent enough to speak on live television for more than a half hour. Karl Rove's butt probably gets tired with the dummy on his lap and his hand up its ass for over 25 minutes. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll catch something worth watching at 9:30.

Cosmetic Surgery

Daze End got a facelift today!


I've been trying to change the 'comment' link to say something amusing, but I'm giving up. Who am I kidding? I don't know shit about html coding. I give up!

PS - check out the links - I may have added some new ones.

So Much To Do...

Some of my coworkers make me want to stick a pen in my eye. Or theirs. Or make me wish I were deaf as a doornail. And blind.

I have 5 chapters to read for my class tomorrow night. Guess how many chapters are in the book? 7. Guess how many chapters I've already read? Getting back into this school thing is harder than I thought it would be.

THIS is where I'll be tonight... instead of reading my 5 chapters. Sometimes, you just have to weigh your priorities.

To All The Wanderers

Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what
makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what
the world needs is people who have come alive.
--Harold Whitman

Notes

I'm pretty sure THIS is the guy we elected president...

Ladies, Ladies, Ladies...

I am continually astounded by my fellow women... and men.

[This isn't going where you think it is - I'm taking a break from my political ranting.]

The number of interesting, brilliant, talent women who get hung up on men who are total wastes of oxygen is simply DUMBFOUNDING to me. It's horrifying - what cool women allow men to say and do to them under the heading of 'being in love'. Absolutely repulsive. Granted, I am no exception to this rule; you're reading the blog of a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her, then proceeded to tell her he wasn't in love with her, yet she continued to stay with him for another 6 months.

What we let them get away with - and what they think is acceptable behavior - is absolutely amazing. I was channel hopping last night... and I happened upon a really, really stupid reality show with C-list celebrities. It was this show on VH-1 called 'My Fair Brady', following around Christopher Knight from the Brady Bunch(who is so C-list I had to look his name up, and was surprised he's still alive) and Adrienne, "America's Next Top Model" in relationship-land. She's like, 22, and he's like, 47. He was the biggest gigantic asshole to her, and she just followed him around. The man doesn't seem to have all that much going for him - aside from being rich. Average looking, not particularly smart, acts like a 15-year old. He talked to her like she was a child - which, at 22 to his 47, she IS - and basically just continued to treat her like she was worthless. And she was just like, "but I love you so much, wah wah wah." UNBELIEVABLE. And that girl is kind of a tough chick.

While celebrities don't always 'count', I've seen the same thing over and over. I saw it with my college roommates, I've seen it happen to my best friends, I've listened to the way my male friends treat THIER girlfriends, and I've been guilty of it myself. What is it about our society that has conditioned women to let men treat us this way, and why is it socially acceptable for them to do so? Are we so desperate to be loved, or to believe that we're loved, that we are okay with continually abasing and degrading ourselves? Are women that paralyzed with fear over being alone that being in a crappy relationship that is better than being single?

This is my message: Ladies, knock it off. Stop being stupid. You're WOMEN, for God's sake! Studies show we're smarter, stronger, and tougher than them. We live longer, we go through childbirth. We multi-task better, we're better commuicators, we know how to dress ourselves, and we're more compassionate human beings. We are now the majority on most college campuses in the United States. New research shows that our brains are more densly packed with neurons. We need to stop letting these useless men treat us like crap. Maybe if we strengthen our backbones, men will learn that their abasement of women is NOT acceptable.

Until that happens... find a hobby. Men are fun, but having one doesn't necessarily fix your problems. Trust me on that one. You're much better off taking a painting class.

Calling A Spade A Spade

The day after the Presidential election last year, The Ex called me from work. I was crying and inconsolable after he informed me that Kerry had conceeded and that W. had, at least by actual votes this second time (rigged voting booths in Ohio notwithstanding) won the race. In my head, I wasn't surprised, but in my heart I'd kept hope alive that if we tried hard enough, we could beat the Republican Machine. Anyway, Ex called, and I was a mess. Just the idea of the disasters that would befall us in the next 4 years was horrific. This administration had already run us into the ground in the last 4 years - what was to happen next? I distinctly remember his response. He kept saying, "Look, Beck, it'll be okay. Everything is going to be okay." I got really angry at this - the entire reason for my distress was that it WASN'T going to be okay, and I told him exactly that. Naturally, he poo-poohed me off as an over-emotional, irrational female.

This weekend - and after the passing of Chief Justice Rhenquist Saturday, leaving yet another Supreme Court seat for W. to fill with his incompetent cronies - I've had an almost irrepresible urge to send him an email saying simply, "I told you so".

Clarification

Let me rephrase.

Hurricane Katrina was NOT W.'s fault. A natural disaster is no one's fault... unless, of course, you consider the fact that global warming is NOT a load of crap; it's a scientific reality and is in fact a direct result of the poor environmentalism us humans have shown throughout our existence - politics notwithstanding. [If you 'don't believe in' the greenhouse effect, then you're also probably one of my favorite people who doesn't 'believe in' the science of evolution and is in support of teaching creationism. You also probably drive an SUV or Hummer that gets 9 miles to the gallon and burps toxic waste into the air.] The state government of Louisiana (and Mississippi) AS WELL AS the Federal Government have all completely failed the hurricane victims. W. himself just happens to be spectacularly ineffective at making any sort of effective decision to galvanize the rescue mission. Of course, maybe if he'd bothered to cut his vacation short BEFORE the hurricane hit instead of 3 days afterward, there would have been more for him to do...

Bullshit

Sidebar -

As I was republishing my post, I heard the non-descript sound of the tv chattering away from the other room, and then I heard a very clear and distinct "Bullshit. Bullshit! Bull SHIT!" in my mother's voice. From this, I can decisively conclude that she's watching the news, and that W. is (once again) attempting and failing at effectively using the English language in front of a microphone to spin our latest catastrophe into something that isn't his fault.

Spitting Venom

It's so nice to know that the spam world has been reduced to posting advertisements in the comments section of blog sites. At least here, I have the small satisfaction of knowing that only about 10 people even bother reading my blog, and of the 10 of you, hopefully only about 2 or 3 are bored or gullible enough to bother clicking through to the website.

If you haven't read Maureen Dowd's syndicated column today, copy and paste this link and get to it.

http://www.timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=395115&category=OPINION&newsdate=9/3/2005

Kill Your TV

I've been attached to the news since I got home tonight. Here are a few places I've been to tonight that you should consider it your responsibility to visit as well.

www.cnn.com

www.redcross.org

www.newsweek.com

http://www.livejournal.com/users/interdictor/
(this is a live blog being posted from the heart of New Orleans)

www.workingforchange.com

and one more slightly-unrelated by also useful link...

http://www.venganza.org/

Left My Heart at the Big Easy...

Early September is one of my favorite times of year in upstate NY. The weather is calm; warm, but not too warm... everything is green... the sun still lingers until 7pm, the sunsets are full of color. It's beautiful.

Today I came home from work and walked out to the mailbox as the sun began to drop behind the top of the hill. The birds continued their mellow chirping, and I could hear the sound of a sprinkler from the neighbor's yard. There was a little bit of a breeze, and the smell of someone's backyard grill floated along on it. I looked around at my gentle, serene neighborhood, my home for over 20 years. Then I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it under 15 feet of water, the roofs of our homes caved in, bodies floating down the street, people looting and dying of hunger at every turn. Then I came inside and cried for the poor, poor people suffering in New Orleans. What could that possibly be like?

To see a city of such heritage and history - a blindingly proud city despite its rather ignoble reputation - brought to its knees so thoroughly and humiliatingly is painful to watch. My heart bleeds as I watch the people of Louisiana tear each other apart in a desperate attempt to survive. Just as painful to watch is the overwhelming homogeneity of the people who are suffering. Americans have become accostomed to pretending that racism 'no longer exists' in America, that we're 'above' all of that... but take a look at CNN. The people who did not make it out of Katrina's path were the poor and the infirmed - they HAD no way out. Almost every single hurricane 'refugee' you see on the news today is black. What does that say about America? New Orleans is the 9th poorest city in our country, and 2/3 of its population is African American. Are we really doing anything more than preaching equality in this country, while at the same time funneling our 'undesireables' somewhere we consider to be out of sight and out of mind?

And please do NOT get me started on the appaling way that the residents of the city have reacted to this tragedy. When the World Trade Centers were demolished, not one New Yorker looted. Not one New Yorker attacked or killed another in an attempt to get to safety or shelter. They helped each other, died to SAVE each other. As the cameras roll, people being housed in the Superdome are raping and murdering each other over blankets. I watch the news and I feel like I'm watching a scene from the movie version of Lord of the Flies (a book that made me throw up, incidentally).

This awful tragedy and the nation's reprehensible reaction to it refreshes and strengthens my fear of the future. I really wonder sometimes if the apocolypse isn't pending... if it's already arrived and is just taking it's time finishing what's been started.

Felicity

I've been watching old episodes of Felicity on one of the chick cable channels recently.

[WE, actually, but don't tell my former co-workers at Lifetime that I've been contributing to the competition.]

I always been attracted to the show... something about the character has always drawn me in. Maybe it's her hair - she has hair just like mine (but she's got a better stylist on set), and I've conviced myself I might (in my own little delusional world) look a little bit like her. But it's more than that. Something about the character's personality... her complete inability to be cool or say the right thing... or salvage herself from any and every embarassing situation. She's smart and articulate, but she still seems to manage to fuck up all the time. The way she reacts to situations in her life seem to be the exact same way I would react... even as I cringe to watch. Maybe that's why I cringe. She wears her heart on her sleeve and everything is an excuse to overanalyze and overemote to an exhausting degree. She's an idealist and an romantic and wants it all, even though she doesn't necessarily know what 'it all' is. Part of me HATES that I'm like her. She's fictional... and she's kind of pathetic. There's this one line from this one episode that, for some reason, has stuck with me since it first aired when I was in college. Sean says to Ben (about Felicity), "She's the kind of girl you marry, not the kind of girl you date." The first time I heard it, I thought they were talking about me, not some curly-haired fictional college student.

In the end, Felicity went off to medical school, married Ben, and lived happily ever after. She always stayed true to herself and was all about not compromising her beliefs. Leave it to J.J. Abrams. Maybe if I ask nicely, he'll write my script too.

But her hair is really JUST like mine. And I really loved the episode where she cut it all off.

I Found This on a Tea Box...

The Wisdom of Daily Life

1. Watch a sunrise at least once a year.

2. Plant flowers every spring.

3. Look people in the eye.

4. Compliment three people every day.

5.Live beneath your means.

6. Choose your life's mate carefully. From this one decision will come ninety percent of all your happiness or misery.

7. Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring, and integrity, they think of you.

8. Don't postpone joy.

~H. Jackson Brown, Jr., from Life's Little Instruction Book

Indy 500

I have a confession to make;

Sometimes, I drive like a real asshole. I know it's obnoxious, but I can't help it - my new car is just better than all the others on the road. And no one drives fast enough.





[I know this is a stupid post. I think up all of these articulate and insightful things to write about as I'm falling asleep at night... but then, when I get to my computer in the morning, it's all gone. I'm going to have to figure out how to fix this problem.]

... Johnny Depp?...

Last night I had a dream about pirates.





[I just felt like a post was needed]

No Phone

I have had the most heinous last 2 weeks at work. The phone has literally not stopped ringing, from the moment I turn it on at 8:30am until... well, about noon today. It's gotten so bad that about a week ago, the phone rang at home and I answered it saying, "Good morning, College of XYZ". My mother was completely caught off-guard and laughed hysterically. [Never mind that it was 7pm.] Since then, I have mounted a strike; I flat-out refuse to pick up the phone anywhere but at my desk. I'm sorry, but if I spend 8 hours a day with a plastic receiver attached to my head, there's no way in hell I'm going to think it's a fun thing to do in my free time. I spend so much time getting yelled at over the phone that I really think I should be able to hook the thing to the earring studs on my left lobe. Then, at least, I wouldn't have this horrible (and possibly permanent) crick in my neck.

The good thing about this whole stupid string of business is that I've learned a lot, and I've had an opportunity to really help out some students that may have been overlooked otherwise. I'm not saving the world or anything, but at least I can sleep at night knowing that I'm trying to fight the good fight.

But I'm still off phones until further notice. If you need me, light up the bat signal.

Wishful Thinking...

My new little passtime is to browse online for apartments and daydream about the hazy future that involves me NOT living in my parents' house. Since I have no concrete time frame as to when this is going to actually happen, I've decided to distract myself by not only shopping for apartments, but also miscellaneous art, music, movies, books, and furniture that will reside in my fictional new apartment. I made the mistake of mentioning this hobby to my mother last week. Bad idea. Now, every time I go online to check my email (or blog) I get a snide, "shopping for overpriced apartments again?" when she walks by. It's funny, because up until that point, I had no idea it would bother her for me to move out... in fact, I figured she was just counting down the days. Meanwhile, with each passing day, my family annoys ME more and more... and more... and more..

Oooohhh... this print will totally go great in the kitchen, right over the coffee machine. When I have my own kitchen. And my own coffee machine...

Dream Journal

Last night I had the pregnant dream again.

This is the most absolutely twisted dream... and I keep having it. In my dream, I look down and all of the sudden I'm pregnant - like SUPER pregnant, and have no idea what's going on. All I know is that it needs to be gone, and it needs to be gone NOW. Even in my dream, I'm fully aware that there's no way I could actually physically BE pregnant, because I haven't had anything close to intimate contact in over 6 months [both in dream life and real life... and by saying 6 months, I'm being nice]. Then, my friend Michelle (who is pregnant in real life, and is as happy as a pig in shit to be that way) shows up and explains to me that it's too late to get rid of it, and I'm just going to have to deal ... I realize my life is completely over and that somehow I've ruined it - without actually having done anything 'wrong' to begin with - and I start to hyperventilate... and then I wake up. I grope myself; flat (relatively) stomach. Not pregnant. Thank God. And then I'm freaked out for the rest of the day.

Of course, after that I had a dream that my cat was living in technicolor. She shed her tabby brown color and became black, then charcoal... then blue and red... then gray and pink. Gray and pink was a good look for her.

If I knew more about dream analysis, would I feel better or worse about my reoccuring nightmare?

Eavesdroppers

After living in Manhattan for a year (which was more than long enough, thank you very much) I would just like to say that I can not appreciate this website enough. The incredible stupidity that humans are capable of never ceases to amaze me.

Overheard In New York

It's just funny. And sad. And very frightening...

Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons

"...when a gnarled old man shuffled from table to table selling roses, I bought one, thinking that life was like a flower - showy and colorful and indescribably delicate, and even if aphids or worms or mildew destroyed it, still couldn't change the fact that it had been a flower..."

~Lorna Landvik

Pet Peeve # 6,3491

I hate it when people [90% of the time they're men] tell me to "smile". I know I've had this conversation with someone, but I feel the need to reinforce how much I really, seriously hate it.
A) Who the hell are you?
B) Don't tell me what to do.
C) How do you know that what's going on in my head or life right now is worth smiling about? Maybe I'm thinking about a parking ticket, or the death of a family member... or how BAD you SMELL. Maybe my cat has rabies.
D) People who walk around smiling all the time for no reason either look mildly disabled, or like they're WAY over-medicated. Ever read the bumper sticker that says, "I smile because I have no idea what's going on."? No one wants to be that guy.

I am not a particularly morose person. While I'm prone to moodiness and sarcasm, I'm no Debbie Downer... and generally speaking, I try to be pretty upbeat. At least, in public. In fact, when I used to waitress, I was often asked how I managed to be so perky or energetic all the time. [I was, not to toot my own horn, a kickass waitress.] So, new rule: if you ever tell me to smile when I'm not, I'm going to rip your heart out and feed it to you. Okay?

[insert big, toothy smile here]

QOTD 7/21/05

Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world any more.
There is always something to make you wonder, in the shape
of a leaf, the trembling of a tree.
--Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965)

I'm No Carrie

It's funny... I never used to love Sex and the City, but it's definitely grown on me. I watch it now [sanitized repeats on TBS] and think 'they are SO right'. Maybe as my single girlfriends and I get older (and remain single) it becomes more relevant. Who knows? What I do know is that I find it very ironic that my ex-boyfriend bought me the final season on DVD for my 23rd birthday. At the time, I wasn't much of a fan... and also found it to be an extremely lame birthday present. When we broke up, it was the first thing I gave away.

Along that vein... SO ready for "Wedding Season" to be over already. I'm going to OD on wedding-ness.

I Hate Britney Spears

Britney Spears is not pregnant with twins, she's just a fat slob. Can we drop the subject about her useless existence and talk about something that MATTERS for 5 minutes? War, famine, AIDS, the appointment of a new Supreme Court Justice, biases in the media, global warming...? Maybe if we stopped feeding into celebrity psychoses and their twisted need to be loved, they'd stop going all freakin' insane and get the hell out of the media.

Bloggerchicks

Verdict is in: Lucky Spinster is fabulous. Check it out.

So is This Girl. It's an extremely well-written blog, and a good word of warning. I agree with LS - The NYTimes should be ashamed.

I've had a really rough, unexpected 24 hours. More on that later.

QATD 7/15/05

He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand
rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are
closed.

~Albert Einstein

I'm an Audioslave addict

Be Yourself


Someone falls to pieces
Sleeping all alone, someone kills the pain
Spinning in the silence
She finally drifts away
Someone gets excited in a chapel yard
And catches a bouquet
Another lays a dozen
White roses on a grave

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide themself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united
Healthy or insane

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Even when you've paid enough
Benn put upon or been held up
With every single memory of
the good or bad, faces of luck
Don't lose any sleep tonight
I'm sure everything will end up alright
You may win or lose

But to be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do...

Breeders

It's 9:20am. There is a child screaming its head off in my office. I am never, ever having children. Someone needs to muzzle it or duct tape its mouth shut or something - just MAKE IT SHUT UP AND GET IT AWAY FROM ME!

Pacifist on the Roof

Why do I have so many high-maintenence friends? And why can't they cut me some f---ing SLACK once in a while? How is it that, in my attempt to extend friendship and kindness, I get thoroughly and constantly CRAPPED on by people? I'm starting to understand why postal workers go... well... postal.

Last Time I Did Not Receive A Piece...

Why do random work events (ie: the "ice cream social" today) remind me an awful lot of that scene from Office Space where Milton doesn't get any birthday cake?

BlogPower

I just found about 5 different "Girl Power" blogs while clicking through Waiter Rant (mostly because I lack the attention to actually READ posts today... I need reading glasses) and thought I would share them with you. Not sure how I feel about The Ass Chronicles or Lipstick Graffiti yet (the former being a little shallow and the latter... strange), but the other two look like they're worth 5 minutes...

Beatrice Petty

Lucky Spinster

PS - Casey and Dan threw their bass player out of the band recently - a Long Story Short coupe, if you will. Hence... they need a new name. If I win the 'Name Contest' I get a free shot at the gig tonight. Anyone have any suggestions...???

Like Gumby

I hit the 2-mile mark last night! Yes, you read that right - I ran 2 solid 10-minute miles. And actually, as Casey pointed out, in sheer distance I went about 4. I won't bore you with the math, but I'm really impressed by myself. For the girl whose mantra has been "I don't run unless I'm being chased" since... birth... this is a big deal. The race is on July 23, so that gives me 12 days to be able to go 5k (about 3.2 miles for those of us non-metric folks). Keep in mind, my ability to go 2 miles is SOLEY on a treadmill... I'm probably going to drop dead outside in the 90 degree heat. But maybe not. I've never felt this way about my body before; like it can handle what I throw at it. The idea that I can push myself and not break is a novel one. All my life, I've felt... infinitely breakable. These days, I feel a little more... bendable...

That's Why They're The Writers

"Love isn't something you feel - it's something you do. And if the person you're with doesn't want it... save it for someone who does."

~ 6 Feet Under

Sister Cities

I feel like I really need to say some things about the attacks on London yesterday. It was my home for 5 months... the Edgeware Road Tube stop? a 10 minute walk from my apartment. London was (and still is) a magical city... my father described it when he visited as "like Disney World without those stupid rides". The history, the culture and the people were like nothing I have ever experienced before or since, and every single day I am glad that I had the opportunity to be there.

It was also where I was the day the World Trade Centers were demolished. I stood on the bank of the River Thames on a bright, sunny day - exactly like the one in Manhattan, London's "sister city" - and watched the tv footage. I was miles and miles away from my friends and family, and I looked around in awe as the British continued on about their daily lives. British television took breaks for commercials. Public transportation continued to run. The world around me continued, while 5 hours away, it stopped.

This is the exact same viewpoint that we Americans, "safe" at home, have on the tragedy across the pond. Our instinct was to be critical of European insensitivity after 9/11, yet here they are, now experiencing the same horror. I'm not sure what my point is here... just that now we get a chance to see what they saw. YOU get to see 9/11 through MY eyes. The loss of life in sheer numbers might have been greater, but proportionately it's very close.

The single, most important thing I remember from that experience was the kindness, gallantry and graciousness I felt extended towards me - an American living in London - by the locals. I suppose my sincere hope is that those of us here remember the pain we felt and extend the same courtesy to the British suffering their own personal tragedies here on American soil.


Okay, now I feel better. That's about as "patriotic" as I get.

Watch Those Lbs Melt!

Me: what the hell would I do without this calendar
Me: it looks like a war zone
Me: when did I get a life?
Casey: when you lost the best 200 lbs you ever lost

(I informed her that it was closer to 250lbs)

QOTD 7/8/05

This morning's quotes:


Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try
to love the questions themselves. Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it,
live along some distant day into the answer.
- Rainer Maria Rilke


True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but
because we are used to loving. There is always some madness
in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.
- Friedrich Nietzsche


I think I'm going to have a lot to post about today...

To Post or Not To Post

So I'm having an inner debate. I wrote a lot (okay, a little) in a journal during my vacation - mostly while sitting bored in the airport or stuck on the plane. I ended up having hours and hours to kill. Should I post my "travel log"? Do all 3 of my "loyal readers" find that it may be worth reading? If so, should I post part or all of it? Comments, thoughts, suggestions? I guess it all depends on how bored I get at work in the next few days.

I will tell you this:
While I was on vacation, my father hit my 3 month old car with the lawn mower. THE LAWNMOWER. HE HIT MY CAR WITH HIS STUPID LAWN MOWER!!! The one person on the planet who probably understands my psychoses the best and knows EXACTLY what my reaction would be, thought it was a good idea to go anywhere withing a 1-foot radius of my new car with his lawnmower. How much do I want to kill him right now?

Why

I figured out last night on the way home from the gym what my deal is with the running. Some of it, at least.

Some of it is the idea of pushing myself physically. Part of me has always wanted to be an 'athlete', or is fascinated by those who are. [I've always dated/was infatuated with jocks and athletes.] I never thought I had it in me, and I've never really known my limits. I didn't think I had the drive. As an equestrian, I could get on a horse and know 'I can do this and other people can't'. I haven't been on a horse in almost two years. Now I know when I get up in the morning that I CAN run a mile and a half - I can count on my body to do it. Every day. A year ago, I couldn't count on my body to get me across the street. I was sickly; I felt and looked it. I feel good when I leave the gym. I'm starting to realize that it's not just vanity that drives people to work out, run and lift weights... it's more internal. I also feel more in tune with my body... as if working every muscle reminds me that they're all there, and what they're up to. If something's wrong, I know it right away, versus just the general ache/hum of things in working order.

The other part of the equation is warped... but I think it's about being the complete opposite of what I was when I was with John. While we were together, the relationship was the single most important thing in my life. His happiness (or lack thereof) was The Big Deal. Everything else took a backseat. Now I fill my time with lots of vitally important factors - friends, family, work, my cat, volunteering, writing, music, exercise ... there's a noticeable lack of romantic relationships, but I've strengthened everything else. I worry less about the happiness of others (though definitely not completely forgotten) and more about my own. My lifestyle was also unhealthy - together we ate crappy food (and too much of it), didn't exercise, smoked, drank, sat on our butts. Going for a bike ride or hike was something we would do maybe tomorrow - when we weren't so tired. I've cut almost all of that out. Every time I get on the treadmill (no matter how tired) and start to run, it reminds me of how far I've come from what I was 7 months ago. I'm proud of what I've rebuilt from the pieces of me that were left after the crash, and I think the new me is stronger, better, prettier, smarter, harder, healthier. It's the new version - Becky 7.0. As I run and watch my reflection in the glass as the sun sets, it's a reminder.

Flight or... Flight

I ran almost 2 miles yesterday. It surprised me, because I felt like crap even before I got on the treadmill... but I just kept running and running and running.... very strange. It seems to be that I run my best when I feel the worst. Of course, the news was on. That helps, because I get all fired up and angry, so I keep going, like a derranged Energizer Bunny. Sometimes I wonder if I'm running as a catharsis... or if I'm running away from something. The thought that I might be running from something makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. That, in turn, makes me run harder...

QOTD

I recently signed up for a Quote-of-the-Day. [I was having a whimsical, inspirations moment. It's over, and now I'm stuck with these annoying emails every day. The quotes aren't terrible, however.]


Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can
only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust
that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have
to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma,
whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has
made all the difference in my life.

--Steven Jobs, Founder of Apple Computer

Five Stars

While watching Next Food Network Star, I've decided that the next guy I sleep with needs to be a chef. The last one was just a fat pothead who liked to eat and THOUGHT he could cook [with WAY too much 'Ol' Bay']. I'm talking pretty plates, drizzly sauces, and some kind of kickass dish involving flaky crusty dough and utensils I've never seen. Sprigs of parsely, while cliche, are welcome. Pastry chefs will be encouraged to apply, and will be immediately bumped to the top of the list.

The good news is, they just voted off the most attractive contestant. Food Network shoots in NYC, right?

More Timecapsules

A year ago today, I was lying in a hospital bed. After I post this, I will be lying in my own bed... taking a nap.

All this reminiscing is making me nostalgic. Part of me misses the Ex. Why do I still remember a phone number I haven't dialed in over 7 months?

Cleanliness Is A Virtue

Is it overly strange that I'd prefer to drink from the cup of water I pour for my cat every morning that the one my brother uses? His is much dirtier....

Diary

...
If i get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
threatening the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to...

A Time Capsule

June 20, 2004: [a quick recap] I was the only sober person at a Phish show.

The day before, my oldest friend's soon-to-be brother-in-law died tragically... on the morning of her wedding shower. I had found out just a day prior to the shower that I would have to have emergency surgery the following week... yet I couldn't let my boyfriend down and NOT go to the show. Because that's the kind of girlfriend [doormat] I was. So there I was, surrounded by Phish heads drinking, smoking, and doing various drugs...while I sat in a lawn chair eating an apple. Because I was too damn sick (physically and heartsick for Michelle as well) to do anything else. That night when we got home from the show [which was endless], The Ex asked me if I was scared about my surgery. Was I scared? The girl who'd never even had her wisdom teeth removed was going under general anesthetic and staying overnight in the hospital and they were going to cut her open and shove a tube down her throat and one in her arm and TAKE OUT AN ORGAN. What did he think? That was followed by his passive-aggresive version of "Where Is Our Relationship Going?, Part 2". Oh-so appropriate time for THAT, don't you think? He didn't visit me in the hospital. [Strangely enough, we didn't break up for another 6 months].

June 20, 2005: [fast forward] Phish is no longer a band. Too bad for the drugged-out Phish heads.

Michelle and Joe have been married for almost a year... she is 5 months pregnant, and the baby will be named in memory of Frank. It will soon be time for another shower. I spent my day at work, keeping in touch with old friends and having lunch with new ones. I have lost 15lbs since last year. After work, I ran a mile and a quarter on the treadmill. A year ago, I couldn't walk 10 feet. I'm single, but at least I won't be spending my evening with a hoard of people that I can't relate to, wondering why I'm trying so hard... and still feeling like an outsider.

It's funny how you can look back and see so clearly that your life a year ago was like that pair of pants you always have to suck your stomach in to get into... but never really look right... when the life you have now is like those jeans you have in the back of the closet - you always forget how perfect they fit until you put them on. I'm sure, however it's a beautiful night at SPAC this evening... just like it was on June 20, 2004.

Run, Forrest

I've got lots of good blog ideas running through my head, but as always, when I sit down to write... I've got nothing interesting to say.

Weird day at the office today. I think I'm in a funk. I've been so tired lately... maybe it's because of the running. I started running last week. Yes, Ms. "I don't run unless I'm being chased" began running... basically because Casey proposed it to me in a way that didn't seem completely reprehensible (don't ask me how she did THAT). She also knows me so well that she managed to squeeze a promise that I'd run a 5K with her in July - which of course, is now the reason I won't back out. Damn Casey for knowing me so well! Anyway, so now here I am, a running fool. Someone at work told me that it takes 3 weeks for your body to 'form a habit' or, translated into a way I'll understand, will be energized instead of exhausted from it. So I've go another solid 2 weeks of complete exhaustion before I'll start feeling the benefits of the running. In other words... right before the race. Which I'll run, and then promptly never run again, knowing me. I'm so darned fickle.

It's 4:40pm and I'm stuck at my Office Space desk until 6pm. Heard any good jokes lately?

Untitled

"Is there world enough for me?"

~ Jane Frances

PotShots

Your Clever Little Blog Could Get You Fired

I should probably watch it, huh?

Fatherly Advice

My Dad is a great guy. Because we're so much alike, a lot of times we don't get along, or we butt heads. Nevertheless, I've always respected him, and strived to be like him. I hope that one day I can look back on my life and see that it's as accomplished as his. That I've done as much good as he has.

In honor of Father's Day [which is really a Hallmark holiday, I am aware] I am going to post the email that my father just sent me:


I was reflecting on our career discussions of the last few days. Discussions which I always enjoy, by the way. And thinking about my conversations with my father. Obviously, I didn't talk as much with him as we do. I only really remember vividly 2 pieces of advice:

1. If it were fun, they wouldn't call it work.
2. Be nice to the people on your way up, you will see the same people on the way down.

The first was kind of depressing so I have tried not to acknowledge it - but I have found the second piece of advice useful.

Have a nice day.

Love,
Dad


I love you too, Dad

Everyone Loves a Lynching

Kate wrote a "cheer" for me. I think it's supposed to be inspirational, and to remind me to be more assertive and to help "lynch doormat Becky" (I'm paraphrasing a little bit here).

Here is my cheer:


Who's my friend that's such a bitch?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's my friend with real big tits?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's that girl with self-esteem?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's that girl that god-damn mean?
That's Becky, That's Becky!!

Hmmm... ...

I'm no Letterman

Alisande has a "Top 10 Reasons Why We Shouldn't Drink Anymore" list, apparently. I would like to see that list, so that I can systematically go through and refute every single one of the reasons. As Casey put it, "life just keeps giving you more reasons..."

Help Me Wanda

Work is so god-awful today that I would rather have a root canal without novicaine than be sitting here. I feel like I need to start either banging my head against my desk or run around naked and screaming at the top of my lungs, just to shake things up a little bit. Seriously, someone PLEASE put me out of my misery or stick a pen in my eye or SOMETHING! I'm beggign you! If you love me, put me down like a dog or flush me like a goldfish.

Just Like The Movies

"Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. But rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along. "

Pretty, right?

***

Someone else said once, "There's beauty in the breakdown." Which, theoretically might be true, but if my cat could talk, I don't think she would have anything poetic to say about what she witnessed last night.


It's funny how in the movies, when people hit rock-bottom there's that moment of despair - the main character is on the floor in her bathroom, stringy hair in her face, bawling with circles under her eyes, drunk or ODing and soaking wet. After that, she starts to get better, and through a movie montage, we see her progress. In the real world, that girl ends up on the floor in her bathroom at least 10 times. Over and over again, like a freaking addict, ripping her own life apart...

No wonder movies are much easier to watch than real life.

Ode to the Probe

It's a beautiful, spring-like Saturday morning. I don't usually blog on Saturdays... I'm not usually at such a high-functioning level at 9am on a Saturday. Today, however, I was woken by the sound of a chainsaw... or hacksaw... or circular saw... some sort of loud saw that they're using to crowd yet one more house into the development I've lived in for the last 20 years. [I grew up building forts in the trees and riding my bike in the woods behind my house... now all of that wilderness is gone and all that's left is a cheaper version of the Stepford colony]. So now I'm up, drinking coffee.

But I digress. The reason I'm here this morning is to bid a fond and sad farewell to the memory of The Probe. My parents will be trading it in for a whole $500 (they bargained up from $200) off on their new Honda Accord (boring) today. The last few months with the Probe have been rocky - she no longer runs the way she once did. But she was a valiant soldier, a trooper, and took good care of me. We've been together since my senior year of High School, and she never let me down. Her paint is faded, the molding has fallen off... the shocks are shot, the windshield wiper sprayers don't work, the combination switch is broken, her brakes are bad... okay I'll stop. But you get the point. Regardless, I have many fond memories, and I know that the people close to me do too. So I ask you today to take a moment and spare a kind thought in memory of The Probe. We loved her.

I hope she gets auctioned off to the demolition derby like Lindsay's Shadow did. I bet she'd win.

Kibble for Thought

Here's my question to ponder for the rest of the day:

Casey said that "guys are like cats - the more you ignore them the more they annoy you". Okay, point well taken. But... does that mean that women are like dogs? And if so, then would it explain our vast miscommunication issues?

On that note... I watched an episode of Animal Face Off and the jaguar ripped the wolf's throat out. Just an interesting study, considering the whole cat vs. dog scenario. Thoughts, comments?

Boomerangs

Isn't it funny how sometimes you don't realize that you've missed someone in your life until they return to it? Thanks, Matt.



[Now you can feel super-cool because you're in my blog!]

LiveStrong... Dickhead

If you consider what you're reading here to be "pseudo-intellectual bullshit", I'm curious as to the level of your actual intellect. "I got a tetanus shot today" and "my little brother was really hungover" are not particularly thought-inducing topics. This is a diary - I'm not pretending to be anything I'm not. If what I have to talk about is so gravely offensive to you, then go somewhere else. You didn't 'stumble' here... we both know exactly how you arrived. There are maybe 3 people on the planet who actually read what I have to say - and I like it that way. Plain and simple, this is a diary that I write in while I'm at work. I'm not looking for some loser from high school to anonymously comment on my personal life. Especially someone who doesn't have the balls to identify him/herself. I'm not looking for validation, fame, fortune, or anything else.

Oh, and Casey thinks you're an asshole too.

Having said that... my kitten got sick this weekend because she ate one of those rubber "LiveStrong" wristbands. She pooped it out on Sunday, and I found it in the litterbox. She's feeling much better now.

Game Over

CD: uggghhh can you imagine having children
CD: uggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
CD: LIFE OVER
SW: NO CHILDREN
CD: like game over in nintendo- that theme music
CD: doot doot doo doo dee doo doo dee doo doo doo doo

Eternal Sunshine

I just watched Garden State [and drank 1/3 of a bottle of Kahlua].

It's interesting that, at the end of a week during which I've decided I need to be medicated, I watched this movie. To over-simplify, it's about a guy who goes off his meds for the first time in 17 years and realizes how numb to life he's been. He realizes how much more he'd rather feel anything - even pain - than feel numb. That numb robs you of yourself. That the idealistic persuit of "happiness"... just results in numb.

Pain reminds you that you're alive.

Siblings Converse

Baby Bro: i'm gonna die
Baby Bro: and
Baby Bro: i want you to have my stereo
Baby Bro: and my car
Big Sis (me): your stereo sucks
Big Sis (me): and my car is better
Baby Bro: i know i'm sorry
Big Sis (me): and I just remembered - the car isn't yours to give



My darling little brother can be a teeny bit on the dramatic side. Especially when hungover after his last finals for the semester.

Sanity is Transient

Me: if I go to a counselor, will it make me ineligible to work in college services?
Z: and the answer should be yes -- but then no one would be employed
Z: i saw a counselor once -- 2 sessions and i was cured
Me: cured huh
Z: yeah -- she said never come back
Z: so i translated it as cured



(the inital "Z" was used by request)

Why I Got A Shot Today

I'm not squeamish about needles, but I hate actual shots. Especially in my arm. Put a needle in my ass any day of the week, but do not incapacitate my left arm indefinitely. The worst part? I'm left-handed... and I always forget that the reason they give you shots in your left arm is that the majority of people on planet Earth are right-handed, and your arm hurts for days post-shot.

Why, did I get a tetanus shot today, you ask? Who gets a tetanus shot at 24, you wonder? Well, let me enlighten you.

My father is one of those former un-handy handy men. In the 60's, he thought he could rebulid a carburetor. Now the drug-induced haze of handiness has subsided and he tells me to fix my car's heat-sheild myself with duct tape and a wire hanger. He has become your typical suburbian father, who tries once to wallpaper the bathroom, fucks up, and declares that he's hiring people to do everything for him from now on. Well that's great and all, but it leaves a problem. The problem is The Toolbox. Anyone who has grown up in Suburbia with a father like mine knows exactly what I'm talking about... It's probably 50 years old, completely covered in rust, and sits harmlessly in the corner of the garage, waiting patiently to die. Which would probably happen, peacefully and unaided. Unfortunately, along comes the secondary problem - Handyman Revisited.

This weekend, my father's inner Handyman Hippy alter-ego must have decided to visit The Toolbox. I think it happens once every 4 or 5 years. According to his report, he "needed some tools". Keep in mind, nothing was "fixed" this weekend. There were no "repairs" made. No home-improvement shows were watched. If something needed to be "repaired" or "fixed", he would have called someone else to do it anyway. A more accurate description is that he walked over to the Toolbox, moved and opened it, looked inside, then closed it (partially) and walked away. Cut to 3 days later. I'm on my way to work, trying to get in my car door (which is parked in the garage). Mr. Handyman's big Toolbox visitation positioned it perfectly... directly in front of my driver-side door, so that I could rip my foot open on it, rusty hinges and all. Which of course, happened. At 7am in the morning, pre-coffee. Even worse, it scuffed my favorite pair of work shoes!

Naturally, the rusty-hinged Toolbox encounter resulted in a review of my tetanus shot record (which, until today, apparently didn't exist)... which resulted in a painful shot, first thing this morning. Again, pre-coffee**. Suffice it to say that, until May of 2015, at the ripe old age of 34, I can step on as many pieces of rusty metal as my little heart desires.





** why do all of the crappiest things happen before I've had coffee?

Zoloft

M: he got scared
M: better yet, he's a fuck head.

Who needs anti-psychotics or therapy when you have friends like mine?

(and yes, I'm fully aware that at this moment I am suffering from a relapse.)

The Horrible, Very Bad No-Good Wednesday Morning

I'm having a horrendous day.

The only thing salvageable about this morning is my Dunkin Donuts Iced Mocha Latte. It's really good. Everything else sucks.

Oh, and this snippet of convo with Casey:

by devoting your life to him
you convinced him that you were more of a loser than him, since your life was revolving around a loser
if you arent the main loser, you are a loser devotee, you move down a rung
"you wouldnt want to belong to any club that would have you as a member"
--woody allen
once you lose yourself, i think, you do become a loser in a way

That last part is really good.

M-er F-er

You know you're completely monkey-fucked when you wake up on a Tuesday morning and think, "Man, that was a stressful dream I just had."

Blogger Heaven

I'm a busy little blogger today. Just found 2 new blogs that are pretty interesting (and well-written, because we all know my grammar issues...). I think I find them both interesting because I can relate -- people in the bar/restaurant business have earned my undying respect, especially now that I waitress AND do liquor promotions. Dealing with people and their a) food b) alcohol c) money and d) alcoholism is brutal. On a regular basis. So check out these blogs. Not that anyone ever lands here to check anything I link to out. But still.

Waiter Rant

Standing On The Box

Becky the Bandaid

I love Casey, and I love her band. I'm a total groupie... and I live for pounding beers in the front row and yelling "Freebird!!!" at her incessantly, until she tells me to shut up.

Long Story Short

In my heart I will continue to think of them as "Casey and the Double Ds". 'Cause it's funny.

Nothing Interesting

I'm not sure why it's been so long since I last wrote... I have plenty of things to say. I could say I've been 'busy', or whatever, but the reality is... I sit at this desk all day, every day. Sometimes it's intimidating to know that my diary is online and anyone can read it... but other times, that's the only thing motivating me to write something.

Things have been moving right along in my life... I guess I still keep thinking that one day I'm going to wake up and magically no longer feel so heartbroken. It's been almost 6 months, and sometimes it's hard to believe it wasn't just yesterday. I know that it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did... but it's still there. He was on tv the other night - just the back of his head. It startled me, because I actually didn't recognize the back of his head. I know that sounds silly. It was unsettling though. For a year and a half, the back of his head pretty much consumed my life... and now it's just a rusty memory.

Having said that... things are good. There was a line in this stupid movie I saw a few weeks ago that was something like "This is your life, right now. It's not going to stop and wait for you to get back on your feet". How true. I've been spending a lot of time with my girlfriends - Casey, specifically. We've been friends forever, but for some reason lately it seems like we just 'get' each other. We actually had a drunken conversation about it on Saturday night. We're very different people... but at the end of the day, we think alike. So... I'm happy. Sometimes lonely, sometimes sad... but you can't live your life in a haze. Pain reminds you that you're alive, right?

Anger Management

Do I have an angry blog?

If so... do they make some kind of ointment for that?





"I want my vodka on the rocks and the 'rocks' to be made out of pills..."

Life and Art

Friend: u have to analyze and look i think everyone has arrows
Friend: it is a big picture thing
Me: yeah, true. My big picture is feeling a little Dada-ist
Me: or at least, abstract
Me: maybe more like a finger painting
Friend: splatter :-)
Me: maybe a Jackson Pollack
Me: or a Duchamp - y'know, with the urnal

Plunging Standards

It's a slow day at work today. Having said that... I decided to pass the time this morning by flipping through Yahoo Personal ads, mostly because it makes me feel better about myself. (This is harsh, but it's my damn blog, so I'm being honest. The 5 people who read me would know the truth anyway).

SoI compiled a list of about 16 out of 1100 or so of the men who were relatively human and had some concept of the grammar lessons they learned in school. I loathe poor grammar. I've considered making a grammar/punctuation/spelling test a prerequisite (or "GPS" as they called it at SU, before they stopped making literacy a requirement to get a college education because, apparently, it was too demanding) for conversing with me. Anyway, my co-worker and I have been weeding down through these 16 guys, and are having a grand old time doing so. Unfortunately, I've come to the painful realization that my standards may be sinking... rapidly. To illustrate this, I've included part of our conversation below.

ME: no oh Hyde Park guy?
ME: aside from being 33
ME: which would be 9 years older than me
HER: im reading his right now
ME: he's got a dog in a batman costume
ME: I find that endearing
ME: and all of his hair
ME: and teeth, I think
ME: wow, apparently my standards just became 'not homeless'

I think this might be the result of me really needing to get laid... otherwise, I'm SO screwed!

I Need A Crayon

Everyone else with a blog has cool pictures in it. Maybe I should find a cool picture to put in my blog. Any suggestions?

New Car Smell

So, I had this really stupid epiphany while listening to Alanis Morissette on they way to work yesterday...

Yes, I did just write that, and no, I don't mind waiting while you finish laughing and snorting coffee out of your nose...
...
...

Finished? Okay then.

Anyway, so I was listening to an ITunes compilation of Alanis' 6 or 7 decent songs off of something like 3 or 4 albums (complete with artist commentary), and it got me thinking. Jagged Little Pill was my soundtrack as an angst-ridden 16-year-old. I remember lying on my bed, over-identifying with this screaming, angry rocker chick the first time my heart was broken. (In hindsight it was only slightly bruised, but I didn't know that at the time). I can identify exact points in my life through music. Now, I'm not a particularly music-obsessed individual, but play me a song and I can tell you exactly where it puts me in my 'story'. Our Lady Peace Superman's Dead? Freshman year. Incubus Drive? Winter of my Sophomore year. Audioslave? September, 2005. You get the point.

So, yeah, the epiphany. Theoretically, as you grow up, you become wiser and more worldly... life becomes more layered and complex. We are trained to think of our lives and time as directional, going constantly forward. With that being said, it seems only logical that your soundtrack would do the same... considering that (for me, at least) the music is something you identify with at that exact moment in time. Yet here I am... rocking out to Alanis Morissette in my car, 8 years later. Granted, I'm rocking out in my brand-new, self-purchased car on my way to a full-time job to a much more placid, engaged, and earth-bound Alanis, but still. Does this mean that I've made no great strides? Is the idea of 'forward' merely an illusion? Does it mean that I've been running on a treadmill since 16? Is all the personal growth I like to think I've made obsolete? Or does it indicate that life is cyclical... that as far as you think you've gone from where you once were, you will inevitably find yourself back there at some point, with a few alterations. Concentric, repeating, slowly advancing rings instead of a projectile tragectory, hurtling through time.

All of this from Alanis and a cup of coffee. Then again, it could have just been that New Car Smell.

Go Home We're Closed

Revelation: I'm not nearly as funny as
A) I like to think I am
and
B) Everyone else who has a blog.

There are much wittier blogs floating around out there. Why are you wasting your time here?

I do know this one lawyer joke...

Application

Hi, my name is Becky, and today is March 9, 2005. I am hereby putting in a request for a week with no gut-wrenching, tragically sad news. I would greatly appreciate it if my application could be processed as soon as possible, and for it to be effective immediately. I am also requesting an optional extension to two weeks. I do understand that certain service fees will be applied. Thank you very much for your time and consideration.

Love Letters

I know, I'm bad. It's been a month and a half since my last confession...

Just kidding.

But seriously, my life has just been so full-to-bursting-at-the-seams lately that I haven't had time to write. Although, in all fairness, I do sit in front of a computer for 40 hours a week. (My my, am I always this wishy-washy?) Anyway... between getting called into the Pub every other day, the liquor promotions and working a full-time job, any attempt at juggling a social life has been quite an adventure of late. My down time has mostly been composed of sleeping, ironing, doing laundry, or cleaning the litterbox. Oh, and picking up my NEW CAR, which I'm absolutely in love with. I'm actually in love with it in a physical, emotional I'd-make-out-with-it-if-it-had-lips kind of way. It had better not cheat on me, like someone else I know.

I'm fully aware that I'm all over the place today, but bear with me. I read this really stupid interview on TV Guide online with Kerri Russell (aka: Felicity) last week, and the requisite, "are you dating anyone?" question was asked. (Can't they think of ANYTHING more interesting to ask her??) She responded by saying something to the effect of, "I'm just really in love with my girlfriends right now", which at the time, I felt was a perfectly stupid cop-out response. However, it got me thinking.

I AM in love with my girlfriends right now. There are no other people on the planet that I am so desperately infatuated with right now. My 4 or 5 closest girlfriends are utterly fascinating to me, and I hold them all in the highest regard. I absolutely can NOT believe the garbage that they've put up with from me in the last few months. I've been whiney, petulant, self-absorbed, miserable, depressing, needy and all-around horrendous. Never mind that every single one of them has had just as much, if not a boat-load more stuff to deal with. Ladies, this is a message - a love letter, if you will - to you all. I love you all sososo much. You are my rocks, and without you, I would have (for no real good reason) drowned.

Snow Day

Big bummer that a blizzard prevented me from kicking my own ass snowboarding this weekend. I was really looking forward to it, but... hey, life sucks sometimes. Spent the weekend holed up in the house, trying not to be Pathetic Sad Girl. I also started taking St. John's Wort yesterday... I've been told it's nature's attempt at Prozac. I probably need it.

Speaking of which - a friend of mine said something that was really freaking obnoxious the other day. I use the term 'friend' loosely, because I've pretty much had it with this particular individual... at any rate, we had dinner last week because she kept harassing me and wouldn't leave me alone. She tells me that I was sad when we spoke on the phone earlier, and it made her all depressed and then she was miserable for like, a day and a half. Gee, I'm awful freaking sorry that my life made you sad. Y'know what? Then don't call me. Stop bothering me. Stop using ME as your shoulder to cry on all the time. You're wasting my time. I'm done with people who are worthless.