The Bitch is Back
I've been in a foul mood of late, which has left me absent from the blogger world. It's not that I've had nothing to say--it's that the things I've had to say are whiny and unpleasant (more than usual, even) and I've assumed no one wants to hear them. I'm a compassionate person by nature, you see.
While there's something to be said for the 'ole misery loves company philosophy, I fully realize that most people simply would rather not get into someone else's shit.
So. I'm trying to pull myself out of it, which means I have to just bite the bullet and write. Something, anything...get back on the horse stuff. I might accidentally plop out a few compelling, amusing thoughts by the mere exercise of typing.
It could happen. It could, I tell you.
First step is to clear some of the whiny stuff off the plate:
1. Stylists that say, "I do a damn good job" after completing what is supposed to be a tasteful, pretty highlight and cut but instead results in a skunky stripefest of trying-too-hard should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused in hairspray.
2. After much contemplation, I've decided that work sucks. Sure, sure, the brain needs stimulation and I need an outlet and an identity beyond the obvious mom role. And yeah, money has its place in the world (and in my coy new orange wallet that I love irrationally). But there must be a better way. I've decided to look very carefully into Lotto.
3. We, as a society, are lazy and insensitive and gluttonous as we stand by the happenings in Darfur and AIDS in Africa and a host of other humanitarian nightmares that $1 from each of the American effin Idol voters could virtually abolish if they bothered to think about it for the length of a commercial break. More on Darfur in another post. I don't want to weigh down this otherwise light and airy tone. :-)
4. James Frey got a raw deal. I finally read A Million Little Pieces, and it was excellent. His writing style is refreshing and personal and fast paced, and his agent and editors (who changed this from what Frey wanted to put out as a fictional novel, and who undoubtedly redlined all over his manuscript notes about "flesh this out; make this more dramatic; make this character do something shocking") should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused with hairspray for throwing him under a bus and not sticking by him, even though they claimed to.
5. While unique and wondrous animal species are going into untimely extinction all around us, evil, hideous spiders continue to haunt my world and cause me great angst. My daughter was bitten by one at preschool last week, and I was certain it was the work of a flesh eating, brown recluse variety (because we all received the far-reaching email with horrid pictures and stories earlier this year, right?). Lesson learned: do not research spider bite symptoms online if you ever want to sleep through the night again.
This concludes the ranting on topics deemed appropriate for the viewing public. This blog will now go back to its regularly scheduled programming.
While there's something to be said for the 'ole misery loves company philosophy, I fully realize that most people simply would rather not get into someone else's shit.
So. I'm trying to pull myself out of it, which means I have to just bite the bullet and write. Something, anything...get back on the horse stuff. I might accidentally plop out a few compelling, amusing thoughts by the mere exercise of typing.
It could happen. It could, I tell you.
First step is to clear some of the whiny stuff off the plate:
1. Stylists that say, "I do a damn good job" after completing what is supposed to be a tasteful, pretty highlight and cut but instead results in a skunky stripefest of trying-too-hard should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused in hairspray.
2. After much contemplation, I've decided that work sucks. Sure, sure, the brain needs stimulation and I need an outlet and an identity beyond the obvious mom role. And yeah, money has its place in the world (and in my coy new orange wallet that I love irrationally). But there must be a better way. I've decided to look very carefully into Lotto.
3. We, as a society, are lazy and insensitive and gluttonous as we stand by the happenings in Darfur and AIDS in Africa and a host of other humanitarian nightmares that $1 from each of the American effin Idol voters could virtually abolish if they bothered to think about it for the length of a commercial break. More on Darfur in another post. I don't want to weigh down this otherwise light and airy tone. :-)
4. James Frey got a raw deal. I finally read A Million Little Pieces, and it was excellent. His writing style is refreshing and personal and fast paced, and his agent and editors (who changed this from what Frey wanted to put out as a fictional novel, and who undoubtedly redlined all over his manuscript notes about "flesh this out; make this more dramatic; make this character do something shocking") should be pecked by small birds and have their eyes doused with hairspray for throwing him under a bus and not sticking by him, even though they claimed to.
5. While unique and wondrous animal species are going into untimely extinction all around us, evil, hideous spiders continue to haunt my world and cause me great angst. My daughter was bitten by one at preschool last week, and I was certain it was the work of a flesh eating, brown recluse variety (because we all received the far-reaching email with horrid pictures and stories earlier this year, right?). Lesson learned: do not research spider bite symptoms online if you ever want to sleep through the night again.
This concludes the ranting on topics deemed appropriate for the viewing public. This blog will now go back to its regularly scheduled programming.
posted by jsa at 11:10 AM
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