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And to continue . . .
1 May 2007 23:33I have a broken spring in my car. It's also got a dent, a chipped windshield, tar stains on the doors, and a trunk that is covered in straw and hay that will probably never come out. When I go to trade it in, I'll probably be offered about $100 for it.
The post office is holding our mail hostage or something. We have the perfectly lovely, highly respectable, and completely empty Mailboxatron 3000 out there, but will they actually deliver the mail to it? No, they will not. Bastards.
My arthritis is making life difficult. My hands and my hips are frozen in the mornings when I first wake up, and they only partially recover during the day. Honestly? Scares me to death. My grandmother was in a wheelchair because of arthritis. She could barely use her hands. Is that what I have to look forward to? It's not just the pain, which is constant now although bearable, it's the lack of mobility and the loss of facility in my hands. The irony of this is not lost to me, that I went through the gastric bypass surgery because I was losing my mobility, and now I'm going to lose it anyway. You can't escape Fate, I guess.
I want a vacation. A real one. I want to go someplace warm and peaceful and quiet, where people will wait on me (as much as I'll let them) and go away when I don't want them there and I won't have to do anything I don't want to do. That's what vacations are supposed to be about, right? Because I can't say that I've ever had that. Well, once sort of. I did a three-day retreat at a convent in Maine. No one waited on me and it wasn't very warm, but it was peaceful and quiet. (Except for that one night when one of the nuns cornered me in the library for about an hour. I don't remember her real name, but in my memory she's Sister Chatty Cathy.)
A part of me wants to get stinking roaring drunk. Most of me knows that the consequences are to feel sick as a dog physically and to feel like a complete asshole psychologically, but still . . . that buzzzzzzzz, that loosening of the muscles and the letting go of the defences and the lowering of the guard. For a little bit, it's the best feeling in the world. Or high. I'd settle for getting high. Because let's face it, in real life it's much easier to get drunk or high than it is to get a vacation :)
And where are all the great fictional female characters? The Question of the Day was which fictional character would you like to have a conversation with, and I couldn't think of one contemporary woman. Not one. I'm talking books, here, not TV or movies. The closest I could come was Jo March, and I do love my Jo, but really . . . where the hell are the middle-aged women? It makes me want to write my own character.
And speaking of fictional characters, I read P.D. James's The Children of Men, and I was very disappointed in it. The premise was great; there were one or two passages that brought a chill with their depictions of life in a world where humanity is doomed to extinction in a matter of decades, but the interactions between the characters was crap. I didn't buy the relationships at all, hated the main female character; I thought that the only one who was even remotely believeable was the midwife. I wanted to know more about the world they were all living in, but instead it was page after interminable page of boring dialogue. And I love dialogue. As I said, very disappointed.
And it's after midnight. My how the time flies when you're being all bitchy and crotchety. And that is definitely going to be the name of the fake law firm that I start. Bitchy and Crotchety.
My long-dead mom said never go to bed angry, and while I'm not angry, merely bitchy and crotchety, I still shall endeavor to comply. So. Some good things. Heroes knocked it out of the ball park with that last ep. I haven't been too happy with it lately, but I'm glad that I decided to watch it that night.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
puffgirl_two let me read a spec script that she wrote for Friday Night Lights, and lo, it was good. I felt like I had my show back for a bit. Pixel and Mao are wrestling on top of the cedar hope chest in between bouts of intense mutual grooming. I finished a couple more New York Times crossword puzzles.
Eh. (I was about to say that it beats getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick, but since I actually did that to myself two days ago and consequently have had throbbing pain and an allergic skin reaction in that area, I'll try to think of another cliche.) At least it's not snowing.
Remarkably, that actually has cheered me up. I should try to fall asleep while I'm still feeling grateful.
The post office is holding our mail hostage or something. We have the perfectly lovely, highly respectable, and completely empty Mailboxatron 3000 out there, but will they actually deliver the mail to it? No, they will not. Bastards.
My arthritis is making life difficult. My hands and my hips are frozen in the mornings when I first wake up, and they only partially recover during the day. Honestly? Scares me to death. My grandmother was in a wheelchair because of arthritis. She could barely use her hands. Is that what I have to look forward to? It's not just the pain, which is constant now although bearable, it's the lack of mobility and the loss of facility in my hands. The irony of this is not lost to me, that I went through the gastric bypass surgery because I was losing my mobility, and now I'm going to lose it anyway. You can't escape Fate, I guess.
I want a vacation. A real one. I want to go someplace warm and peaceful and quiet, where people will wait on me (as much as I'll let them) and go away when I don't want them there and I won't have to do anything I don't want to do. That's what vacations are supposed to be about, right? Because I can't say that I've ever had that. Well, once sort of. I did a three-day retreat at a convent in Maine. No one waited on me and it wasn't very warm, but it was peaceful and quiet. (Except for that one night when one of the nuns cornered me in the library for about an hour. I don't remember her real name, but in my memory she's Sister Chatty Cathy.)
A part of me wants to get stinking roaring drunk. Most of me knows that the consequences are to feel sick as a dog physically and to feel like a complete asshole psychologically, but still . . . that buzzzzzzzz, that loosening of the muscles and the letting go of the defences and the lowering of the guard. For a little bit, it's the best feeling in the world. Or high. I'd settle for getting high. Because let's face it, in real life it's much easier to get drunk or high than it is to get a vacation :)
And where are all the great fictional female characters? The Question of the Day was which fictional character would you like to have a conversation with, and I couldn't think of one contemporary woman. Not one. I'm talking books, here, not TV or movies. The closest I could come was Jo March, and I do love my Jo, but really . . . where the hell are the middle-aged women? It makes me want to write my own character.
And speaking of fictional characters, I read P.D. James's The Children of Men, and I was very disappointed in it. The premise was great; there were one or two passages that brought a chill with their depictions of life in a world where humanity is doomed to extinction in a matter of decades, but the interactions between the characters was crap. I didn't buy the relationships at all, hated the main female character; I thought that the only one who was even remotely believeable was the midwife. I wanted to know more about the world they were all living in, but instead it was page after interminable page of boring dialogue. And I love dialogue. As I said, very disappointed.
And it's after midnight. My how the time flies when you're being all bitchy and crotchety. And that is definitely going to be the name of the fake law firm that I start. Bitchy and Crotchety.
My long-dead mom said never go to bed angry, and while I'm not angry, merely bitchy and crotchety, I still shall endeavor to comply. So. Some good things. Heroes knocked it out of the ball park with that last ep. I haven't been too happy with it lately, but I'm glad that I decided to watch it that night.
puffgirl_two let me read a spec script that she wrote for Friday Night Lights, and lo, it was good. I felt like I had my show back for a bit. Pixel and Mao are wrestling on top of the cedar hope chest in between bouts of intense mutual grooming. I finished a couple more New York Times crossword puzzles.Eh. (I was about to say that it beats getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick, but since I actually did that to myself two days ago and consequently have had throbbing pain and an allergic skin reaction in that area, I'll try to think of another cliche.) At least it's not snowing.
Remarkably, that actually has cheered me up. I should try to fall asleep while I'm still feeling grateful.
