By 9 a.m. today, I’d washed four loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen and been hit on. Yay insomnia. What a day already!
AIN’T NO HOLLABACK GIRL
I’d had to leave to refill my laundry card, as I had two bucks left on it and two more loads to dry. I happened to have five bucks on me because I’d hit Coinstar so that I wouldn’t be completely broke till payday. Some dude in a car started following me, slowing down to holla out the window. Seriously. I’d just gotten out of the shower and thrown on a tank top and a short denim skirt. No makeup, skin a veritable wreck, mosquito bites all over my legs from an outdoor party last week. (Try shaving over it. Ouch and oh yeah, scars for sure. Wondrous.) He was cute, but as a rule I don’t go out with people who don’t at least get out of the car to catch up with me. 🙂
PEACE, SORT OF
After yesterday’s rant about thinking about going back to Pittsburgh, I feel strangely better. Still no decisions, but the weight that’s been on my chest crumbled a bit. It’s not what I really want, but I think I’ve been caught up in thinking that this is it — this is all there is. And it’s not bad but it’s really not good.
I know exactly what it is that I need to get out of this time in my life, and I’m tired of just hoping for it. I need to grab life by the balls and quit letting it happen. The universe needs a copilot. It’s time to step up and start directing this voyage and quit whining that it’s been in cruise control.
That said, I’m going to ask if I can take that vacation after all. It’s only two days and I’m going to start losing my vacation time because I don’t take it. I need some joy.
SPEAKING OF JOY
I’m not sure how fully I can participate in NaNoWriMo this year, but I’ve started outlining my next book. Read: I got drunk last night and started typing and it just so happened to make sense.
One day I might finish the other books that I started in previous WriMo competitions, but whatever. I’ll fill in the plot holes later once I know how I want everyone to turn out. I’m struggling already with the new one, though. I need to go on tour with a rock band or something, as I can tell I will be pulling this story out of my ass. I wonder if I can get a leave of absence from work for this.
I hear about dipshit Lindsay Lohan and other stars getting to drop out of life due to “exhaustion.” Why can’t I do that? I’m exhausted with not being a published novelist yet!
PLAN B
It’s birth control, people. Not cyanide. All the conservatives who are against it, well, just because you can afford to feed a family of 40 doesn’t mean the rest of the world should have to find themselves knocked up because of whatever circumstance brings it on. Take it as a chance to educate the public about a bigger danger, STDs. Plan B ain’t gonna prevent those.
And here’s a big tip for ya: I bought some Plan Bs back in the day. It used to be five or 10 bucks a pill, and it was a nice insurance policy. And guess what? Never used any of them. They expired and I threw them away. Not due to inactivity (at that time, anyway!) but due to the fact that those who are smart enough to have backup on-hand are the ones least likely to need it.
9/11
Am I the only one who’s a little bit resentful at all the pomp and circumstance and ceremony at what should be a private event? It belongs to all of us, even those of us who weren’t personally affected, but seriously. I have always thought it was a government conspiracy to build “brand loyalty,” as it were, to our country.
I think it was orchestrated beautifully to make it appear to be a terrorist attack. I think in the grand scheme of things, 3,000 lives lost was a small price to pay on the government’s behalf for the ability to go swing their dicks around the world in the name of retribution and peace and whatever else.
Failing it being an in-house job, I suspect that intel really was discovered and just not hindered and possibly even helped. (Shut up, I’m a conspiracy theorist. Research not required. Tin foil hat is the only tool I need!) So we can sit around and sing Kumbaya all we fucking want to, but it’s not going to bring those lives back and it’s not going to restore the faith we once had that we were untouchable in that respect.
Anyway, I remember on the one-year anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001, my company staged a love-in. All 50 of us sat in a circle while the CEO fished candles out of his pockets, lint and all, to light. Gross. Much like on the day of 9/11, I wasn’t sure I would have minded the building being bombed. Death wishes are fun — you just cease to care about how the pain stops, just so long as it does.
I know, I know, blah. But to see all these widows getting remarried and having more kids within five years annoys me. I don’t think I’ve managed to have a significant relationship in the past five years. Insignificant ones, sure. 😉 Now, I’m not going all Ann Coulter here (*shudder*) but damn, if these women can get on with their lives, what the hell am I waiting for?!?!