Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Five Things

So it's like super fricking nice out today and all I want to do is sit around and enjoy the niceness while eating a bowl of Frankenberry which you can apparently get at other times of the year besides October which is amazing and revel in the fact that I am in a good mood because it was almost eighty degrees today* and also because today did not, in fact, suck.

*I may have found a way to complain about this. Yes, I know.

I have a really long post written out on paper (PAPER!) that I wrote the other night but have been too lazy to type up and so instead I'm just going to share with you some snippets of things that are currently making me happy.

1. Disney Movies

Yes, I know, I am 25 and I still love me some Disney movies and I don't even care. I watched "The Princess and The Frog" last night and I LOVED it and I am so glad Disney went back and did another old-school animated movie. It was beautiful and fun and the dialogue made me giggle and, most importantly, I think it is probably the most clever love story I've ever seen in a Disney movie. Like, it was actually sort of believable. Once, you know. You suspend reality in your brain for a while.

Also, the original "Alice in Wonderland" came out on DVD again and I snatched that beetch up. I hate the Disney vault. It pisses me off and makes it very difficult to reclaim the movies of my childhood.

I wrote a really long post a while ago about my incredible fascination and like, scary-intense nostalgia about Disney movies a while ago, but apparently that little "search" widget off to the left doesn't work worth a shit and now I'm cranky and if I find it I'll link it even though it's not even that interesting, I don't think. I don't remember.

EDIT: Found it.

2. Softball

This will be my fifth year assistant-coaching softball and I am so beyond excited for the season to start. Mostly because I need something to do outside, I think. Also I get to re-live my youth by coaching because it's the next best thing to playing, and God how I miss it. I play on an adult co-ed slowpitch team, but, you know. Not the same.

3. Frankenberry Cereal

It's pink. And it's delicious. And it has marshmallows. And I've never figured out what the non-marshmallow pieces were supposed to be but they're tasty too.

4. Money

Just kidding, I still hate money. But I did find out today they were finally lifting the wage increase freeze, so when my annual review comes up next week, I will ACTUALLY FINALLY BE GETTING A RAISE YAY.

5. People Commenting on My Blog

Maybe I'm just vain, but y'all's comments just totally make my day. Seriously. I don't always respond because I don't think anyone ever comes back to look for a response (if I have your email, I will generally email back, sometimes... I'm lazy, we know this) but it makes me happy that people are actually reading my drivel and leaving me comments. LOVE YOU ALL. Mwah.

Anyhizzle, I'm gonna go watch a movie or something with this heaping bowl of delicious pink cereal and my kittycat and it's going to be awesome. Although actually the way that last sentence just read, it comes across more "pathetic" than "awesome" but whatever. I'm finally getting a raise next week, I can live extravagantly if I want to.


Don't judge me.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

narcissism, younger men, and bad ideas

Holy God, y'all. I finally came down off my "I'm cool and smooth and mature and I can't be bothered to be a Girl about this" and finally deigned to stalk said cute bartender on facebook. He's 22. Twenty-two. Which makes him a full three years younger than me.

Which isn't, like, epic or anything, but... I feel awkwardly old. To be fair, it's kind of nice knowing that I can still pick up younger men. And I kind of suspected he was younger than me anyway, so I don't know why this is unsettling me.

I think I'll go ahead and focus on the fact that I am clearly hot. In fact, I hope when I am in my late thirties, I can still pick up 22-year-olds. If, you know, God forbid, I'm still single then. Let's not think on this too much.

I asked my friend about him. All she would tell me is that he is "fun" and I probably didn't want to hear anything else and gave an emoti-wink. Which is kind of what I figured, but, let's be fair. It's not like we had any meaningful conversations. I apparently couldn't even remember his name correctly.* I'm such a hussy. So it's not like I had some accurate, fully-formed impression anyway. Or even extraordinarily high expectations. It was a boy at a bar, for fuck's sake.

*Disclaimer: I may or may not have tried to facebook stalk him yesterday but the whole not-really-remembering-his-name-until-she-said-it kind of prevented that. Oops.

Anyway. That was kind of also as I suspected, so whatevs. My instincts were pretty much dead-on all around so I don't know what the big deal is or why I even care. Let's face it, I'm not really looking for anything serious right now anyway, and having some random boy toy might be kind of fun. I've never really had one of those. The idea kind of appeals to me.

As long as I can remain objective and not terribly attached. I don't need the drama and I don't really need anything other than a distraction to fully, finally get over that other guy. (I'm not sure the term "rebound" applies since, you know, we didn't actually date, but I was pretty heavily emotionally invested, so it kind of counts, right? Right.) Whatever, he's young, he can deal with it. And I get to be the awesome, classy, sophisticated older woman. So it all works out quite nicely.

So, this could all very well be a bad idea. But aren't the best ideas sometimes also the very worst ones? ;)

Sunday, March 28, 2010

I Should Be Sleeping, But Instead I'm Blogging

It is perhaps a testament to what my life is these days, that I immediately come home and turn to my computer to blog.

It's been one of those "what the fuck" sort of days. Well, okay, it really wasn't until about 1:30 or so this morning (is it Sunday already?), though the regular morning was interesting too.

I went to bed on Friday thinking about my job and my career and I woke up early on Saturday and what will probably be an entirely separate post, probably on my other blog, did some good-deedery and came home and took a long nap and then showered and groomed to head down to a friend's gig in a neighboring town. I took the time to make myself look as hot as I felt like I wanted to be - not slutty, of course. Just smoldering. I went the full nine yards on the hair and makeup. I even viewed the fact that I hit the end of my liquid eyeliner as a tragedy worthy of an emergency Target run. Baby's gotta have her smokey eyes. Why? I don't know. I guess I hoped that maybe there would be someone there, someone cute and single and temporary that I could displace my affections on, if only for the evening.

As it turns out, there was a super-adorable bartender that I managed to set my sights on, and by the end of the night he was looking at me the way I was looking at him (or, at least pretending to look at him... I'm still not sure.) (I know, I'm horrible.) I figured I was in when he let me steal his hat and wear it for the rest of the night.

At any rate, this story wouldn't be complete without some angst.

And believe me, I was ready to have a night without angst.

I may or may not have been shamelessly flirting, but by this time I was also mainlining water in order to be able to make a probably ill-advised twenty-minute drive back home. I've always banked on this ability I've had that once I stop consuming booze, I can usually sober up pretty quickly. I'll call it a draw this time. I made arguments for my burgeoning sobriety; he was all, "I've been making your drinks... you're drunk." Touche. To be fair, he didn't even really acknowledge me until he was on our side of the bar and hanging out instead of working, but whatever.

I'm losing my train of thought. Shut up, it's 3 AM. You're lucky there's any sentence structure left.

(Who am I kidding? I could be completely smashed and I would take extra pains to be sure I was doing things like using the proper your/you're.)

(Hey, speaking of smashed, did I mention that my ex-boyfriend - the one who hijacked me last April to "apologize" - started texting me. He chided me for missing his birthday (I remembered it; I just ignored it) and something something he misses me and I should call him. fuck it. I felt like I was in Lady Gaga/Beyonce's "Telephone" - argh.)

Where was I?

Yes, so I was flirting with this adorable bartender, right? I can tell you very little about him other than his first name, that he has a cute smile, and that he and his friend wanted to start some sort of business endeavor. And he's a smoker, which is pretty much a turnoff, but somehow it seemed sort of sexy when he did it, so I was willing to let it slide. Whatever, it's not like I'm looking for the real deal right now... I'm looking for something to occupy my mind while I deal with repairing my heart.

So I think one of my friends (who was friends with said boy) kind of raised an eyebrow at me, but whatever, I didn't care. Let me have my fun. At this point I was kind of just craving male attention - not in a slutty way, just, you know. A touch here and there, a hand on my back, and arm around my shoulder, a sidelong smile, a face buried in my hair by my neck, et cetera.

Sue me.

As nights tend to do, this one ended and I was trying to figure out how to gracefully make my escape while still filling my desire to make out with said cute bartender boy. I think at this point I pretty much had his full attention (I may be rusty, but I'm not completely out of it). I instructed him to walk me to my car.

So of course on the way out, I overheard something to the effect mentioning The Boy and The Other Girl and just enough to confirm the suspicions I had that they were, basically, together, in some way or another.

I immediately filed this away, because I had other things to attend to. Still... Fuck.

So anyway, to summarize, I made out with this boy out in the parking lot, a chilly sorta-spring evening, shoved up against the side of my (dirty) car, eating up the attention like any red-blooded scheming female. I was vaguely concerned about being out of practice, but it's like riding a bike, as the saying goes.

He made me put his number in my phone before he (eventually) went back inside. A squad car making his rounds stopped to make sure everything was "okay"- which was less awkward than I would have guessed - I kind of felt like a teenager getting busted - but I was actually kind of grateful for it. It's nice to know that, if, you know, something was going down that shouldn't have been, that an eye was being kept. Though I won't claim that the officer didn't half-smirk and tell us to carry on (politely, of course) after we/I reassured him that everything was fine. He was kind of cool about it.

Where was I?

yeah. Anyway.

As instructed, I put his number in my phone and called it quick so he'd have it. I was not going to be responsible for any of this. Ball = not in my court. Quite frankly, I don't even care either way. I have no intentions of calling him. If he calls me, that's awesome, if he doesn't, well, whatever. I got what I wanted.

He went back inside and I made the drive back home. My mind, naturally, was moving a hundred miles faster than I could keep up with, but I was strangely calm. So it sounded like what's-his-name was probably involved with that hussy after all. (She's not a hussy. I'm just bitter.) I wasn't at all surprised... in fact, I was probably the first one to notice it. Possibly because I've (obviously) been more focused on him than anyone else would have been. (Part of me is slightly amused at the idea that when all of this comes out, there are probably going to be a few people that are all, "the fuck? I thought he was with Kelly." Because I've fielded enough questions that I'm pretty sure half of everybody who's paying attention already thought we were together; the other half knows that we aren't, but knows that I've been hung up on him for quite a while. And, well, since I'm apparently bad at fractions at this time of day, there's probably an additional faction that doesn't know (or care about) anything either way.) Whatever. I'm lucky that I had a combination of alcohol residue and distraction running through my system or this new revelation would have probably upset me rather considerably.

Still, not even cranking my radio up could completely settle my nerves. I'm still human, after all.

So, now, I'm home. And I'm doing my very best to function on a level that I presume to be normal. I've had my suspicions confirmed; I have no choice but to continue on my path of forcing myself to Not Care.

Meanwhile, I actually managed to make a boy interested in me, even if temporarily. Will he call me? Unlikely. If he does, though... then what? We'll see. Not to be completely cold and heartless, but if I'm being honest? It would just be something superficial, something to keep myself occupied, perhaps a rebound of sorts, a 'boy toy' in every sense of the word. I'm not saying I'm going to use him; I'm not saying I'm not.

Who knows? Maybe he'll prove himself to be worthy of something more than that. But unless that happens, I'm not going to bother pretending it's something it's not. I'm not above being shallow. Truthfully? It makes me feel kind of liberated, kind of bad-ass. I'm above it all. So I say.

So here I sit, right now, wide awake despite the hour, despite my weekday insomnia, despite everything. My hair smells like a mixture of salon products, cigarette smoke, and boy. Which is kind of perfect for a Saturday night. Any night, really.

My brain is dull and emotionless. I'm giving myself some sort of emotional whiplash with this whole thing. I talk a big game, as we all know, but just fake it 'til you make it, and then you'll be okay. It doesn't help when people call me on my shit and express their skepticism. Yes, I know, it's hard to flush away a year and a half of some pretty intense emotions. I'm probably lying when I say I'm okay. But I'm trying to convince myself, and the rest will follow. What else is there to do? He doesn't want me, and never has. There's very little I can do about this.

What I can do, of course, is to hook up with anyone I so choose. Because my loyalties lie with no one. To quote the Lady herself, I'm a free bitch, baby.

Anyway. I'm gonna sleep on it all. Maybe it will all make sense in the morning. Maybe it will all make sense in a few years. Maybe it never will.

Either way? I'm making my very best effort not to waste my time being a pile of pathetic and I'm going to live my fucking life in whatever way I deem to be the best way. Starting now, I'm not going to hide within myself and hope shit works itself out - it's time to make shit happen on my own.

I feel like I'm coming back to life.

That's your official warning. Brace yourselves.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Running On Empty

Remember those brief, shining moments a few weeks ago where I totally had everything under control and life was good?

Probably not, because I didn't really write about it.

I didn't write about the sort-of epiphany I had at work, or the brilliant revelations I had regarding my career. I wrote them, but I didn't share. I didn't tell you how I felt like Superwoman and how I felt invincible and bad-ass and in general AWESOME.

I didn't tell you, so now I have to try and explain why it's such a shock to my system that I feel like such shit now. Because in the supposedly linear story I've given you, things went from near rock bottom to surviving to okay to content and that's sort of where it stayed.

I never posted my pages of scribbles from when I was feeling awesome.

It's probably that I was riding high on anti-anxiety pills which turned me into a motherfucking productivity machine. I was getting shit done. Both at work, and outside of it. Unworthy boy to get over? Check. Apartment to clean? Check. New financial endeavor to launch? Check. Put it in front of me - check check check.

And then, inevitably, I began to slow down.

Energy was replaced by lethargy; motivation was replaced by apathy.

But I soldiered on - the bar had been re-set.

And I couldn't seem to find my way again.

I've been tinkering with my dosages so I can feel both simultaneously human and balanced. I've been failing. If I take the dose I'm supposed to, I feel cloudy and perpetually tired, but less emotionally fragile. If I try to scale back at all, I feel almost transparent and almost scared, but at least I can wake up and drag myself out of bed in the morning.

So, slowly, everything starts to creep back in.

I'm not, as it turns out, able to shut my emotions off completely, not to something that's been plaguing me for so long. They fade back in, inconveniently and ruthlessly, making me want to throw things or go for a run (crazytalk, I know) or... anything. I've been leery of trying to resume our friendship... I'm not even sure what's left. My first attempt was a casual inquiry on if our group was meeting up for drinks after work. Maybe. Followed by Bad day. Going for dinner instead. Have fun. Naturally, my first instinct was to think dinner? with who? and was followed with who cares? Quit being a dumbass. It's nice that my angel and devil can converse quietly while I stare dumbly at my phone.

It's stupid shit like that, that makes me unsure if I can even be bothered to pretend we're even still friends. How? We never talk anymore, we never hang out anymore, and I may as well not even exist to him. At all. (And only the first two are even sort of my fault.)

Fine, fuck it. We can be mere acquaintances who exchange pleasantries when the situation requires it.

I don't give a fuck.

Except I do.

My mood swings are giving me whiplash.

* * *

Anyway. Back to the medicated zombie sitch... it sucks. It sucks because I'm letting a lot of things in my extracurricular life go to shit. Largely, I'm letting myself down. Worse, I'm letting other people down.

I skip my taekwondo class a lot. To sleep, sometimes to work. I can't muster the energy to spend an hour doing something I enjoy and that I could be really great at, if I put in the effort. I'm good at it now; I could be great. I'm also starting to waste money on it by not going.

I got my red belt and was so psyched, so motivated. I'm so close now, guys.

But the motivation waned as my medications began to kick my ass. I was just barely over my winter funk when I got taken down again. Exhaustion, apathy, excuses. It's only hurting myself and I can't even make myself care. It's something FUN I do because I ENJOY it and I can't bring myself to care.

Softball season is coming and I am so excited to start coaching again... but I am equally worried about this indifference setting in again. But I will always show up. Even if I don't feel like being there, those girls are going to get my all. Sometimes, being obligated is the last thread that keeps me hanging on.

But the thing that is bothering me the most is that I'm starting to let my friends down.

I had to cancel on a girls night the other night. I thought I could do it, I really did. Weekdays are super hard on me, but I was feeling good, and that was my carrot to get through the week. Hang in there until Wednesday, and you can go have fun.

But by Wednesday afternoon, I was starting to admit defeat. I was mentally and physically exhausted, ready to crawl into a hole, and the thought of having to make the forty-five minute drive back home at the end of the night pretty much finished me off. I left work at 5:30 and went straight to bed - and stayed there until the next morning.

And, unsurprisingly, I got kind of a verbal slap in the face from one of my friends who was tired of me always backing out on plans.

And I so totally deserved it.

I've been a shitty friend, I've been exceptionally flaky, and with no good reason than both my body and brain are simply fucked up. I come up with excuses to run away and hide from the world. But it's my problem and not anyone else's and it's not fair to anyone else and I just wanted to sit there and cry because I felt horrible and I hated myself for the type of person I am right now. And an apology just didn't seem sufficient and I don't know how to make it better because I can't make promises about anything right now.

I've spent most of my life proud of the fact that I never let my issues get the best of me, I didn't let it affect my life. Now that it is, I honestly don't know what to do or where to go or how to fix it. I don't want to be like this. It scares me that I'm starting to implode on myself. I hate that I'm only reliable at work, and not outside of it, to the people that really count. I'm sliding, and I can't stop myself. It used to be just a simple chemical imbalance that could be fixed with a simple pill. I should have been paying attention - maybe I could have stopped it from getting this way.

I'm not a crazy person. Rationally, I know this. I'm just unnaturally inclined to be unhappy, and for whatever reason, all the passion that I used to pour into school or work and my art and my life has turned on me, has betrayed me, and placed the emphasis on my unevenness. I'm passionately unraveling.

I'm not okay right now. And I can't make excuses for that or endless apologies, even though I truly am sorry. I wish the people that have to deal with me like this - the very same people that time and again have saved me from myself - can forgive me, and be patient. I'll get better, I will. I just don't know how to do it right now.

No comments today, kids. I just wanted to shout this into the abyss, and nothing more.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

I Bet You Forgot To Put This On Your Calendars, Didn't You?

Today, my friends, is my half birthday. (Yes, I know. You are more than welcome to send presents.)*

At 1:50pm, I turn 25 1/2.

Which means, of course, that my twenties are officially more than half over and I am on the downhill slide to thirty.

Let's all pause for a moment and freak out with me.


Okay, I'm good now. This thought has been plaguing me for a week or two now and I just wanted to share. If I wasn't so busy at work right now I'm sure I'd have a more contemplative post about my thoughts on getting older.

In the meantime, I'm going to shove a pile of chips and salsa in my face (yay leftover food from Food Day) and try to get through this day in one piece.

*I prefer cash. My cat, as thoughtful as she is, decided to pee on my floor this morning. This is NOT the sort of present I would ever like to receive again. Please make a note of it.

Monday, March 22, 2010

As Promised, Something Fluffy

Or, more specifically, furry.

Yes, that is my kitty in a mini "Fight Like a Girl" shirt.

Yes, she is a freakshow of a cat that lets me put clothes on her.

No, I have no qualms about dressing up animals.

And finally, no, I did not plan this picture out. (I happened to be wearing that shirt that day anyway when I was loaned the doggie garment to try on my cat. She's such a good sport.)

Happy Monday, kids.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

my four cents: why is it so wrong to want to fix a broken system, part 2

Ok, so, a precedent has been broken and I am, omg, talking about politics TWICE in a ROW.

And then I am DONE and tomorrow I will post something FLUFFY and I don't even want to HEAR about it.

(Previous post here, probably more coherent and better-written)

So, the health care reform bill passed, with about the amount of drama that I expected, but it passed. After I wrote my other post, I started paying attention on Twitter and clicking links and doing a few google searches - hardly enough to write an entire informed post, but I gleaned a little more understanding on what was going on.

I still don't get what the brouhaha is about. I am trying to be objective, I really am... but I am not a trained journalist, I am merely an observer, and prone to my own opinions, at that. (That is the beauty of being a blogger, I guess.)

From my understanding, this bill eliminates the ability for insurance companies to deny coverage based on "pre-existing conditions." Even if it did nothing else but that, I would think it was wonderful.

For example... my mother has a whole slew of physical health problems, not the least of which is her debilitating fibromyalgia paired with a nasty case of arthritis and hip pain which has effectively rendered her unable to work in her former profession (nursing). You can bet your ass that she has absolutely zilch for insurance coverage right now, and even if she were able to get some, none of that would be covered. She is beyond broke (that whole "not being able to work" thing, you know) and has had to try to find doctors and clinics that will work with her financially to get her the medications that she needs. Maybe now, she'll be able to see a decent doctor that isn't three hours away, and maybe she'll be able to get back on her feet.

Right now, I personally, am okay. I don't have anything that would prevent me from being insurable if for some reason I was to experience a lapse in coverage. Now. What happens when I'm older? The thing that terrifies me is that a lot of the health problems my mother has are genetic. Which means I've got pretty good odds of being screwed. I'm still young and healthy, but I won't always be. This kind of scares me in ways that I haven't really let myself think about, clumped under the general category of "getting older." I'm sure we'll discuss this more, the closer and closer I inch to thirty.

But, it's more than that. More than me. Obviously.

People in the medical field are overjoyed. They are the ones that have to fight with the system. Their patients don't get the help they need because of the tangled mess of insurance practices we have now.

I'm really, truly trying to figure out what the objections are. There was some concern about federally-funded abortions or something - that's not in there. The status quo of abortions stays the same under the original ruling of Roe vs. Wade. From what I can tell, there is absolutely nothing in this bill that provides financial coverage for abortions. So, check that off your list.

I think the problem with this whole fiasco is that of ignorance. Ignorance from all involved parties. People latched on to catch phrases from their respective parties, and ran with it. Nobody stopped to listen, nobody stopped to see what maybe the truth was.

For us being such the super-awesome country we seem to think we are - I'm embarrassed of us and all the petty bickering. I don't know when or how "healthcare" became a dirty word.

It's not like this is a revolutionary idea; Canada has it... other countries have it... shit, even the state of Massachusetts has it. Why can't we spread that nationwide? No wonder the rest of the world thinks we're a bunch of self-important, money-hungry idiots. We are. For us being a supposed superpower (if we still are) - we sure treat our own citizens like shit. Who needs health coverage?

And maybe it's selfish, but, you know - I'd like to see us use some of our money to help our own country out, before throwing fistfuls of cash overseas. I'm not saying we shouldn't help out the other countries that might be in need; I'm just saying that maybe we should, you know, take care of ourselves first.

The thing, though, that bothers me, again, is the dirty mind games that were being played. Misinformation, fear tactics, lies. (see: "Death Panels") - I am appalled at some of the things I have been hearing coming from the far right. What puts you above the rest of humanity? You might notice the rest of the country isn't quite as wealthy as yourself. And yet - those inferior masses ARE the American People, like it or not. I don't know why the games were being played - what were you hoping to do? Do you really think that your constituents (the rational ones) wanted to cater to your special-interest groups? According to this article from a Republican point of view (yes, I do read those) - they kind of shot themselves in the foot. (Fun fact: the GOP had over 200 revisions to the bill to make it more to their liking and still not a single one of them voted for it.)

It's not a government takeover, it's not a ravaging of the Constitution (not, like, say, the Patriot Act? Sound familiar? Don't get me started), I'm not even sure how it could even fit into a constitutional argument. Then again, I'm not a lawyer. Plain and simply, it's a good thing, I think. And according to this article, it's actually going to help cut the deficit.

And, for the love of Jesus (who would probably be in support of health care for the masses, by the way, cause he was a compassionate dude like that), quit throwing around the word "socialism" at everything you don't like.

Lastly, to bring in the scope to a more local level, I'm gonna go ahead and quote from a Des Moines Register article on how health care reform is going to affect/help the state of Iowa:

“This bill will decrease health insurance costs, expand access to quality, affordable health care, improve reimbursements for Iowa medical providers and allow Americans to maintain their choice of health insurance. This legislation will provide much-needed relief for thousands of businesses in Iowa’s First District and will reduce our deficit by more than $143 billion over the next 10 years and $1.2 trillion in the 10 years after that. After reading the bill, listening to my constituents and debating the bill’s provisions in Congress, I’m convinced this legislation is good for Iowa.” [Rep. Bruce Braley, D-Waterloo]

In Iowa’s First District, the health care reform package voted upon tonight will:

· Improve coverage for 394,000 residents with health insurance.

· Give tax credits and other assistance to up to 156,000 families and 14,000 small businesses to help them afford coverage.

· Improve Medicare for 102,000 beneficiaries, including closing the donut hole.

· Extend coverage to 16,000 uninsured residents.

· Guarantee that 6,500 residents with pre-existing conditions can obtain coverage.

· Protect 700 families from bankruptcy due to unaffordable health care costs.

· Allow 50,000 young adults to obtain coverage on their parents’ insurance plans.

· Provide millions of dollars in new funding for 11 community health centers.

· Reduce the cost of uncompensated care for hospitals and other health care providers by $54 million annually.

Anyway. I expect much discussion on this to come, not particularly on my blog, because it is rather insignificant in the grand scheme o' the world, but if discussion DOES occur here, I expect it to be civil because this is MY place.

I know I have conservative friends and I know they hate pretty much everything to do with liberalism, and I'm great and happy for you if you hate health care reform, but in coming from the side of the uninsured/previously uninsured, I am not going to apologize because this needed to happen. Something needed to happen. I don't care to hear how much you hate our government, our administration, whatever. I already know. You may keep it to yourself. This does happen to directly affect me and my family in a positive way and without this passage, my mother probably wouldn't have much of a life left ahead of her, and we all know she's a bit crazy in the head and that our relationship is frequently strained, but you know what? She's still my mom.

So if for no other reason than that, I am happy for this bill to have passed.

Clearly, upon further contemplation, I have formed an opinion on this issue and have deemed it worthy of my approval. I don't care to be objective on the matter any longer, because, hey, it does affect me after all.

Haters, you can suck it.

[EDIT: Run-down of the bill & a link to read the whole damn thing. Also? Apparently now people can stay on their parents' insurance until they are 26. WHERE WAS THIS THREE YEARS AGO? Sigh.]

why is it so wrong to want to fix a broken system?

Let me preface this with: I greatly dislike talking about politics.

They serve their purpose, sure... but as far as I can tell, the main purpose they serve is to divide and anger and create bickering and generally piss everyone the hell off.

Call me crazy, but with the limited time we're given, I'd rather spend my time getting along with people and not getting worked up over things I have no power to change. (I know, I'm such a hippie.) :p

I have my beliefs and there are some that I will not waver on, and there are some that I am open to discussion on. Gay marriage? There is no debate. In my mind, this is not even something that should be up for question. If anything, maybe we should start to scrutinize straight marriage - the stellar divorce rates clearly are helping to maintain the "sanctity" of that. Death penalty? Gun control? I'm willing to entertain your opinions, I have none on these that I hold hard or fast to. I can see both sides.

The debate du jour, if you've been living under a rock like I usually do, is that of health care reform.

My twitter stream has been so full of updates and opinions and name-calling that I'm actually missing the days where the constant Foursquare updates annoyed me. At least then, I knew if my friends went to the bar after work, and if it was likely they were still there for me to join them.

Obviously, SOMETHING needs to be done. The system is broken.

But amongst the propaganda and false truths and scare tactics and stubborness (from all sides, mind you) - I think the whole point got lost. Right now it just seems like a giant pissing contest to see who can get their way.

There are far too many people without access to health care in this country. I don't know how we let it get this fucked up, but here we are.

When I graduated from college, I was instantaneously booted from my dad's health insurance. I didn't even get any sort of grace period to find a job. Even the student loan people give you six months. I was petrified of getting sick or injured or anything that would require a visit to a doctor that I couldn't afford. My first job out of college, the only thing I could find (and this was before the economy went to shit, mind you) was to work full-time at Target. I had to wait six months to be eligible for insurance. A lot can happen in sixth months, and I was extremely grateful that I am a generally healthy person, with no pre-existing conditions, because I would have been fucked otherwise. And Target had pretty decent insurance - I've heard it is quite probably the best plan you can get in retail - but I still had to wait quite a while for it.

I was mentioning this to a colleague at Target one day and this cranky redneck dude overheard and got all "I don't want to pay for insurance for other people" or something. Sir, it's not like I was a deadbeat who wasn't working. On the contrary, I was working long and shitty hours and wasn't making enough to live off of, I had a goddamn college degree, and the system didn't give a shit about me. Besides, you already ARE paying for other people's insurance. It's called Medicare.

That's the thing that gets me. People who scream out "socialism!" and drop buzzwords like "socialized medicine" - seem to forget that we already pay into Medicare and Social Security. What the fuck, may I ask, do you exactly think those are? But nobody bitches about those. I mean, I do, occasionally, cause I'm not going to get anything back from Social Security by the time I get there, because that system is broken, too, but you know what? I don't really have a say in the matter.

If I have to pay a few more dollars every paycheck so that somebody can go see a doctor or get cancer treatments or some medications to keep them alive or at the very least live a life that's got some degree of quality to it? I'm okay with that. I already pay taxes for a whole bunch of shit that will never benefit me, personally, anyway. I've always wished I could earmark what my taxes go to... I'd give a lot of them to education. That system is also - say it with me - failing.

I haven't read the bill. It's been changed so many times that I don't even know what's in it. The debates have devolved into childlike arguments and I don't have time to get sucked into the drama. I assume that it doesn't matter what I think, because the government will do whatever the hell they want anyway, and I can only hope it is in the best interest of the American people for them to do what's right. I know that's a lot of hope to place on a group of notoriously unscrupulous politicians, but at heart, I'm guess I'm still an idealist.

The American people don't care about protecting the profits of the insurance companies. They care about being able to take their kids to the doctor when they're sick, they care about being able to have that emergency appendectomy without having to file for bankruptcy.

The fact that a lot of politicians seem to be determined to block any progress on this front for the sole sake of being assholes to the current administration, well, that does rather piss me off. Really? If that is your only reason for dissent, pull your head back out of your ass and remember that the people that voted for you, are counting on you to protect their best interests - not yours. Instead of being crybabies that you lost the election TWO YEARS AGO, maybe try to be productive and help fix this godforsaken mess of a country. It's going to hell in a handbasket and you seem intent on decorating it in ribbons for its trip.

That said - I'm so very tired about hearing about this. We should not be debating whether people should be able to have affordable health care. It seems obvious, but maybe that's just me. SOMETHING needs to be done, and even if we only do it by baby steps, at least we're on our way.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

untitled, unfinished

Five years ago, I started my first blog. I didn't really consider it a blog, per se - it was attached to my deviantArt site where I had finally decided that maybe I could/should start posting some of my photographs. But it had a journal feature, and I started using it. My posts there now (if I bother to post at all) are all apologies. I haven't had time to create or post any new art, and I blog here now instead. But I remember how very liberating it was, to be able to pour out all of the things that were in my head that I couldn't - or wouldn't - talk about.

I feel like a lot of the things I say here, now, are a bunch of fluff. And fluff is fine, I suppose. I miss the heartfelt posts, though. In digging through my old archives to find a particular post, I realized how much better I used to express myself. I don't write like I used to. Perhaps it's just because I am getting older, and more disillusioned with things; I can't make words dance and sparkle or ache and reach out anymore. I convey what I need to, and I move on. I don't empty myself of every thought and feeling anymore. I don't know why.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a writer. I filled pages of notebooks and looseleaf sheets with half-planned stories and some genuine attempts at writing something. I rarely finished anything; if I got pulled away from a "project" I lost my momentum and it got filed away for a time when I could focus on it again. Perhaps that's why I moved to angsty poetry when I got older; it was a shorter format, and easy to finish. My dreams of becoming a great novelist started to fade when it came time to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. I needed to find a practical career, more importantly, a college major. Because if I picked that out first, I could pick out my college, and go full-steam ahead with a type of certainty that would naturally lead to my success. The problem was, nothing interested me. I have no doubts that I could have picked anything, and done well. But I needed to feel fulfilled. I'm not entirely sure why I picked graphic design. I knew very little about it, and I wasn't one of those artsy kids. But every time I investigated it a little further, it just seemed like an ideal fit. I'm pretty sure now I had no rational reasons behind it, but I'm glad I followed my instincts. One time my mom and I were driving home from shopping, or something, and I hesitantly mentioned that that was a career path I was thinking about pursuing; I remember her being very excited and enthusiastic and adamant that I would be great at it. My dad had no idea what it was... he thought I should be an engineer. Because I was smart, and good at the maths, and, you know. They make a shit-ton of money. I think he felt design was a lesser use of my talents, and that I would be unfulfilled... but he made it clear that it was my choice and he would support anything I wanted to do. I think my high school math/chemistry/physics teacher was also similarly disappointed; which actually made me feel a little bad. I truly respected his opinion, and he was one of the few teachers at my school that I didn't ever feel like I was smarter than. Having his respect was a big deal to me; I hated that maybe I felt like I was letting him down.

And I could have been an engineer. But I'm not sure I would have been happy. My creative side had been neglected for quite some time... it felt so good to let her out, and to immerse myself in a world that maybe I shouldn't have belonged in.

Today, of course, I'm using that more left-brained side of my personality. But I've found a job where I am perfectly nestled between my left-brain tendencies and my right-brain affections, and where my high-strung, Type-A personality is actually a strength and not an annoying personality flaw. And I regret nothing about the path that led me here.

But part of me mourns the childhood dreams of being able to put words on paper and seeing it come to fruition. I know it is highly unlikely that I will ever publish a book, see my name on the jacket, have other people want to read what I write. My ability to conceive and write any sort of fiction died probably about ten years ago. Now, I write about my life and things that are in my head, and while it may occasionally be entertaining, who really cares? It's such a temporary medium, blogging. I might have a really great post buried back in 2007, but unless I link to it repeatedly, nobody is going to find it, or see it again. A book is linear; people are compelled to read it all the way through. Everything you say, gets read. And, if it's good, gets read again.

I don't know where I'm going with any of this. I've been really introspective lately, and I've been thinking about writing a lot lately, and I've started a million posts in my head and even started to type them, but they're all unfinished thoughts, and I get stalled, and I file them away. Because I never trash any ideas; there's always a chance that I could revisit, and refine, and finish. Which is why I have countless tote bins of half-started stories and thoughts in my dad's basement. I always believed that someday I would go through them all, and weed out the ones that were hopeless, and maybe pick up the ones with potential, and maybe make my adolescent self happy.

It seems less and less likely every day, but I've started to notice that my general philosophy is to never rule anything out.

I'm sure I'll revisit this subject again, because it is haunting me lately. I have acknowledged it, but I do not know how to resolve it. I'm not even sure if I can.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Go Figure.

I knew I shouldn't have said anything.


Oh well. At least we're over the worst of it, and it won't last.

Still. I was hypothetically frolicking in meadows not 36 hours ago. Now I need to find my damn coat again. This blows.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Sunshine On My Shoulders Makes Me Happy

It is a beautiful day out today. It feels like we are finally shedding that heavy coat of winter, and I want nothing more than to run around in a field of grass with no shoes on, frolicking like a lunatic. I won't, of course. It's far too muddy and I'm too out of shape to run.

My point is, I feel like we've reached the end of the tunnel.

Even more so, I feel lighter. I feel like I am finally waking up, out of a long, gray dream. I feel alive again.

I want to drive around with my windows down and my radio up loud and just breathe in the air. Everything feels new and wonderful and hopeful and even if it snows again (like they say it could this weekend), it won't last... because spring is finally here and the world is finally awake alongside me, and it feels like there are only good things to happen from here.

I know, I know. Yes, it's still me... happy posts are pretty out of character, which is its own tragedy, but whatever.

It's pretty out! If you have nice weather where you are, stop what you are doing and tear yourself away from whatever machine or device you happen to be staring at, and GO OUTSIDE.

You'll thank me later.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


I recall fondly my March 17 of last year... when I was on my way to Target, in sweats and looking like a hot mess, to buy cat food. I was pulled over on my way there by what I can only presume was a fishing attempt to catch drunk drivers. I swear to God I am like, flanked, a female police officer coming up to the driver's side and a male officer hanging back by the passenger side. (Either she was new, or I looked like a potential threat. In my sweatpants. Because sweatpants = belligerent.)

The conversation, muchly paraphrased, went something like this:

"Where are you headed/where are you coming from tonight?"

"Um. To Target. To buy cat food."

She peers at me.

"Your headlight is out."

That was that, and I drove the half a block the rest of the way to Target and they went on their way. I almost think she was a little bummed. Sorry to disappoint, ma'am. Even sorrier for my shamefully mundane existence. Ha.

The moral of the story is, today is St. Patrick's Day.

The thing that annoys me, about this particular holiday, besides the fact that I'm extremely boring during the week (okay, on weekends too) and somewhat claustrophobic in crowded bars and generally stay away from crowds on the notorious drinking holidays (of course, being in the middle o'nowhere, every holiday is pretty much a drinking holiday, if you angle it right), is that everyone suddenly thinks they're Irish. Or likes to wear a shirt that says something akin to that.

You are not all Irish.

In fact, hardly any of you probably are. I don't know why this annoys me. I'm not full-fledged Irish, either. (Like any true American, I am a mutt of glorious proportions.) I can only imagine that those that are truly, genuinely of Irish decent are a little miffed by this practice, as well. (Maybe not, maybe it's just me, and my inherent dislike of posers.)

So, in lieu of being 100% Irish, I have composed a list of things that qualify me to wear a "Kiss Me I'm Irish" tshirt more than the general populace. If, you know, I owned one. I will wear green today, but I am not about to be a cliche.

Plus, I just like to come up with reasons to prove why I am more entitled to something than someone else. It satisfies my vain and narcissistic side. Also, I like lists.

Reasons Why I Am More Irish Than You

This is me, being more Irish than you.

-My name is Kelly.
Which is, like, the most common Gaelic name ever.

-I (apparently) have red hair.
No matter what color I try to chemically alter my hair to be, it always goes red. My attempt at brunette led to a deep auburn. When I tried to go back to blonde like I used to be, I ended up with a strawberry blonde that currently gets redder every time I do a touch-up. I never even noticed until people started calling me a redhead... and I was like, wtf, are you blind, but apparently I just didn't notice that the general hue had changed. I guess the chemicals in my hair made up their mind and I am destined to be a redhead in life. (My mother and grandmother both have hair that skews towards the red end of the hair spectrum, too.)

-I have/frequently wear a silver ring that came directly from Dublin
It's a celtic knot/Claddagh hybrid that I adore, even though I was sadly not the one to transport it here from Ireland. Pity.

See? pretty.

-I actually have some Irish in me.
Whilst I may be predominantly German followed by a healthy dose of Swedish (I bet you'd never have guessed that from my super pale skin and blue eyes), my grandma assured me once that we had some Irish heritage in there somewhere. You know, back before it was "cool" to be Irish. As such, I do fit some of the Irish stereotypes: I can hold my liquor and I rarely get hangovers, and I like potatoes. So, yay?

(Not to veer my overly sarcastic post in a serious direction, but I was doing random google searching on being Irish, because, you know, that's what you do, and I found this article that was actually really good, if short - about how white Americans can pick and choose which of their heritages they want to represent, if any. Because most of us are of some sort of European descent which no longer holds much by way of blatant racism anymore, such as that those of African-American or Latino/a-American descent still seem to encounter. I could probably do a whole other post on this and maybe I will, it is actually quite interesting to ponder, but mostly I wanted to take a jab at all the obnoxious frat boys that are going to run around tomorrow being all "I'm Irish!" when, no, you're not. So, there's that.)

Soooo... There's a segue I never saw coming.

This is awkward.


Um. How about another gratuitous pic of me in some ridiculous dollar-bin sparkly green thing from Target? (My vanity is ALL-AMERICAN, baby.)

Anyway. Happy St. Pat's, kids. Remember: you are not all Irish, and thus you need to drink responsibly and don't do dumb shit like drive afterwards. I don't have very many readers, I'd hate to lose any. ;)

(Seriously, though. Be safe.)

[Post title is Gaelic for "Cheers" or "Good Health"... in case you were wondering. Which you probably weren't.]

Monday, March 15, 2010

bah and humbug.

I seem to be simultaneously suffering from an existential crisis as well as an acute need to stab someone.

God, I hate Mondays.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Hey, Remember Me?

Well well, here we are again. This post is going to be kind of schizophrenic because, as you may have noticed, I have not posted all week and so I'm just going to try to pull together all the snippets that I've started and just clear the slate and hopefully next week I will have time to think write again. I haven't even been on Twitter this week, that is how busy I have been. I know, right? It's like a sign of the impending apocalypse, or something.

Also, I am absurdly bouncy right now because I just got back from Alice in Wonderland and I loved loved loved it and I wanna see it again and also because I get in weird post-movie highs and in the absence of anything else to do, I'm going to spew forth onto the Internet. So, sorry?

Anywhatsit, this week was kind of a haze. Well, this week and last week. I guess I didn't really post much then, either.

I've been really, really tired. I stopped taking the anti-anxiety pills because, well, my anxiousness had subsided, and they weren't really necessary. Meanwhile, the upped dosage of my regular pills decided to kick my ass. It was like that other pill evened me out. Perhaps against medical orders (I am a rebel), I cut back down to my normal dosage in the dire hope that I would return to normal. So right now, I don't feel maybe like I'm taking enough, but if I go back up, it will be too much. Maybe I'll start taking a pill and a quarter, rather than a pill and a half. I dunno. All I know is that I know when I don't feel right.


I've also been exhausted in the I'm-getting-burnt-out sense. I never posted my scattered thoughts that I wrote about my job the other day, and I might not, there's that whole black hole of posting about work, but it's not so much my work as it is me in relation to work. If that makes sense? I don't know. Long story short... it's been both a mental struggle as well as just a teeming workload struggle.

Either way... I am exhausted. Partly because I've got a lot on my plate, and I refuse to admit that I can't do it all. Because I can. I am superwoman. If I admit I can't do it, I admit to a failure. I can do it. But mostly, I am exhausted because I feel so goddamn tense. I feel like I've been fighting a fight all week... a fight to keep my status quo, to keep a hold of my clients, to keep a hold on my goals and where I want to be. In the grand scheme of the world, my opinons and wants mean pretty much jack; but I am going to hold onto my idealism as long as I can, and I am going to hold on to my belief that if I speak up, and make it known what I want, maybe, maybe they'll listen.


Just to wrap up loose ends (aka, awkward segue)... the whole Boy Issue. I was all.... over it. Like, done. Every time he crept into my head, I was like, whatever, no, I'm done with it. And maybe I was only superficially okay. At least, with that. But even then, I still wasn't all the way okay. Pushing him aside, it was like lifting a board and seeing all the cockroaches... I had to deal with everything else. Money, work, family, life, all the other things that are much less easy to wave away than some unrequited mancrush. Maybe that's why I held onto it for so long. I don't know. I'm not a shrink. But the sum of all these other parts was much greater than just focusing on that one stressor... and then I got overwhelmed, and it wasn't as easy to pinpoint what was wrong. And then I was all, am I really over it, or am I just chemically faking it? It seemed almost too easy... one of my friends asked me about it, and I nonchalantly waved it off, and she was like, "are you sure? that was kind of a long time..." and she was probably right. A temporary reprieve, maybe, but it was progress, dammit. I was fiiiiine. Totally fine.

But now... my confidence is waning. The walls I built are being chipped at. Weather erosion, maybe. Maybe my guard is down and my exhaustion from other areas of my life are causing me to be less strong.

I miss my friend.

I've tried so very hard to avoid him, to get over him, to pretend like I don't care. I don't care what he does or who he does it with... but in the process, I've shut the door, and I miss him. But what is there, left? It's not all over, there's only me and him, and there is never an us, and maybe we weren't friends the way I thought, and maybe we were, and maybe it doesn't matter because I ruined everything by "letting" myself fall for him so long ago, and maybe it's just a giant pile of fucked up, because I know that it's no good for me, but there's no one else, and until there's someone else, there's still the slightest fragments of holding on. And until I can shed that, I'm afraid that if I open the friend-door back up, I open myself up to a vulnerable place and I'll be exactly back where I started.

And I can't go back. Only forward. Or, at the very least, keep running in place. At least it's not backwards.


In better news, spring, glorious spring, is here. I kind of hate spring because it's muddy and wet and gloomy (ok, I like a little gloom - I'm a cloudy day kind of gal, but this constant cloud cover is making even me twitchy), but I am soooo glad it's here. Mother Nature bent us over a table this winter but at least she's being (mostly) nice enough to melt it in increments so our whole state doesn't end up underwater. Again.

I'm ready to pitch my winter coat into a closet and run around shrieking with joy. Because I am a crazy person.

However, it has been known to snow in April, so... I'm not getting my hopes up just yet. still.

Also! It's Daylight Savings Time this weekend. Pro: it will be light out until, like, EIGHT. Con: I lose an hour of sleep tonight. Pro: I've been sleeping all weekend anyway. Con: I will, undoubtedly, forget.

* * *

Anyway, I had mentioned (exclaimed?) that I just saw Alice and I did not perhaps mention that it was my very first 3D movie ever and I was a bit wary about it because it seems like it's the new fad and probably isn't super necessary and also Roger Ebert, who (whom?) I have come to adore, disdains it greatly and the man knows his shit, but I have to say... it was kind of fun. I kind of liked it.

I was expecting those cheesy paper glasses with the blue and red film for lenses... nope. Black plastic sexyglasses(tm) instead. I totally kept them.

And to make up for my absence, dear reader(s), this is for you:

Please be advised that looking at your digital camera screen while wearing 3D glasses will, in fact, kind of fuck with your eyes. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Monday, March 8, 2010

sometimes, I don't even bother with trying to come up with a good title.

Hello, lovelies. I thought I would check in because if I don't tweet or post then my IRL friends tend to assume that something horrific has happened to me.

Instead of the more likely, less exciting reason of: I am tired. I was busy. Mostly, I'm tired.

I mean, seriously. I am exhausted. I have no idea why. Around Thursday of last week I started to drag a little bit and I slept a lot this weekend and I had a hard time dragging myself out of bed today and I was just sleepy all. day. long. and I skipped my taekwondo class because even though I've been really good lately about going and putting a lot of effort into it, I just couldn't actually process the idea of an hour of physical activity. So instead I went to Target, and went home.

I suspect that, largely, this has to do with the medication adjustment from two weeks ago. When I was taking the increased dosage of my antidepressants along with semi-regular usage of the anti-anxiety pills, I was feeling awesome. Like, seriously, AWESOME. I powered through that next week in a spree of productivity that I have not quite seen before or since. Then I kind of phased out the anti-anxiety pills, because my anxiety issues finally subsided, and... the crash I sort of feared was coming. Except it wasn't really a crash, so much as just a slow decline of energy. I still feel, emotionally, fine. I'm just tired. I don't want to hop back on the anti-anxiety pills just for the sake of evening out my energy levels, because my mood is fine, my outlook is fine, my stress levels are fine... and even though I have absolutely no qualms with medicating myself into a state of well-being, I don't particularly want to get hooked on them, either.

So, assuming that is the culprit, I'm not sure what to do. I have a follow-up appointment at the end of the month where perhaps I will suggest dropping my dosage back to where it was, even though doctor-man wanted to keep it as-is for the next year. I kind of don't think it's necessary. I think my little meltdown was temporary, and was triggered by the stupidest of all things (a boy) but aren't they always? Fucking Y-chromosome carriers are always the catalyst to a breakdown. I don't know why. I never thought of myself as That Girl whose life falls apart because of some guy but I guess that's the emotional Jenga-block that upsets the tower. It's not the first time, it's not the last. All the stuff I keep pent up (money, family, etc etc) doesn't seem to scratch the surface... but you throw some dude in there and all hell breaks loose and wreaks havoc with my sense of balance. I know, I know. It's dumb.

Speaking of, because I feel I should follow up... I'm surprisingly, like... okay. Almost too much so. I am suspicious of myself. After a year and a half of intense unrequited crushing, it's like I just snapped my fingers and went "I don't care anymore!" Except I think it's largely an 'out of sight, out of mind' situation. That, or my brain finally stepped it up and was like "stop being such a fucking loser" and kicked said loserly emotions to the curb and took its rightful place as being in charge of... um. My head? I don't know where I was going with that. Anywho. You can believe me or not, but I am doing quite well.

And I wrote a shit ton of things last week - ON PAPER - because my laptop does not transport well anymore because of its five-second battery life and various special needs (but it's hanging in there! The old 'chine has so many new parts and quick fixes that I will frankenstein this baby into a workable, functional device as long as possible, because I cannot afford a new Mac and I do not want a PC and this thing is my BABY and it may be on life support but dammit, it's alive) and I apparently was all scribbly and writey right before bed so I have all those that I haven't typed because I'm lazy, and busy, and whatever. It's probably an interesting collection of incoherency, because they started when I was at my peak high of being an energy ball and then I leveled out and got tired and lazy and didn't want to type them so when I finally do getting around to posting them, they are going to be three weeks out of context and all sorts of spastic.

Because I am a special snowflake.

Anyway. It may be obvious to you, right about now, that I started writing with nothing in mind to say, and if only it were this easy to keep up a steady stream of words along a same storyline, I probably would have written three novels by now in my lifetime. Instead... we get bursts of randomness that probably make no sense to anyone living outside my head. (Trust me, it's better for you this way).

So. I'm going to stop this merry-go-round of nonsense, and post it, and then go start typing up my sheets of notebook paper, and then hopefully someday manage to figure out some sort of logical sequence in which to post them, and all will be shiny and wonderful.

I've only had one glass of wine tonight, I swear.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

what's this? a blog post?

It's Thursday. I have not blogged since Saturday. I'm getting twitchy. Mostly, it is putting me in a Mood. Not because I particularly think you are all hanging on the edge of your seats waiting for my next brilliant masterwork of the English language, but because I haven't been able to write - I've scribbled thoughts on paper, sure, but until I type it up and solidify those thoughts and hit post, it's like it doesn't count. It's not therapy if no one is listening.

Expect a slew of incoherent posts coming soon... I'm feeling infinitely better these days but my brain has been on absolute overdrive and I can't scribble out my thoughts fast enough and I haven't had any time to even try to interpret them into anything that remotely makes sense, not even to me. It's a sad story, guys.

In the meantime, I am leaving you with a recent image from, like, my new favorite blog. Click it and you'll go there. It makes me happy in so many, many ways.