i need some direction.
i haven't written anything in a while.
i think i forgot how to.
in fact, right now, i'm even kind of writing this like a Sametime (instant message, for those who are cool enough not to know)
i think i take on too much sometimes. in real terms, yes, but exacerbated by my stupid head.
for instance, extrapolate this situation: i am in the middle of printing out a baker's dozen worth of recipes. "Quick and Easy Summer Recipes!", Start to Finish: 20 minutes (right, IF i had Emeril-like resources with his little glass measuring bowls that have conveniently been filled pre-show with spices and chopped onions and organic extra virgin olive oil, by some miserable bloke who probably recently got cut from Hell's Kitchen).
i may, realistically, end up using approximately one of the recipes ... on or around August 31st, out of guilt because of all the time i took to print them out and, come august 30th, none of them being made. they will have been sitting pretty in a binder in a cabinet next to the microwave. neatly tucked away.
i may even then make another one in September, realizing that the recipes aren't half bad, and again regretting not making more. that's one of my fortes -- doing/wearing things out of season. the closet is the worst. the whole winter, i will lament every morning about how i have nothing, oh absolutely NOthing to wear. the first time i hear a bird chirp, i will look into my closet and lament over ALL the clothes i never got to wear when it was cold. idiot.
in any case, yeah, extrapolate that situation. i guilt myself into everything and stress about it in the meantime. it's not something to psycho-analyze in a blog, but it's pretty ridiculous.
the only solution i can come up with is to quit my job and become a bum. katie and claire have already agreed to join me once i can figure out a way to not have to sleep outside.
i promised mary alice i would not write about work, because it would probably get me fired. just one off comment, though -- today, i almost quit before figuring out the sleep-outside quandary when, in the breakroom, this woman kept squealing, in front of the microwave, "8 mEEnuts?! 8 mEEnuts?!! ah can't believe ah have to mahhcrowave thees lean kahzeen fahr 8 MEENUTS!"
i just decided to eat my leftover pizza cold.
and to be fair, it was more like, "uh-ate", not "eight".
"...fitty pahcent power?!"
