Bad

Day

Really Bad.

But, it’s just a day that is over with.  Nothing to mull over or fume about.  It is over and done with.   Tomorrow is a fresh slate on which to write.  It holds enormous potential for being a decent day.

Born Under A Bad Sign

For once, I’ll be glad when the weekend is over. It’s been a bad one. Long story short, car got impounded by the police (NOT my fault, really. Roomie was driving it with a suspended license and got busted. He wouldn’t let me come and get it either. And now I have to pay them 100 bucks PLUS all the towing costs. I smell a scam. Seriously.) and I can’t get it out til tomorrow. Naturally, where it’s stored at costs an additional 40 bucks a day. I just hope it only takes the 300 dollars that I managed to scrounge up to get my car out.

In defense of my roomie, she DID pay the fine and the DMV did give her back her license…that’s why I even let her drive in the first place. Believe me, I respect authority, and I feel guilty for even coming close to doing something illegal.

Whew! I can’t wait to work!

Shakin’ My Booty

I wrote this song, if you want to call it that, as a jab at the popular, white trash, gold digging, party girl songs.  (Sad thing is, with a bit of polishing, I could imagine it on the radio.)  It is written through the eyes of a very superficial girl, as it seems to be popular to be so.

(Crunk means drunk and ice means diamonds.)

Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
For a handsome cutie

Gettin’ crunk with a dude
He’s actin’ all rude
Up in my grill
Wants to give me thrills
But he’s a scrub, can’t pay my bills

*Snotty sigh*

Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
For a (RICH) handsome cutie

What good is a man if he can’t spoil me?
What good is a man if he won’t buy me a Bentley?
How come he won’t give me ice for free?
He wants me to do what with a girlfriend …or three?
He needs me to fulfill a typical male fantasy.

(Show me the money show show me the money)
(Show me the money show show me the money)

Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
Shakin’ my booty
For a handsome cutie

Busy!

I’ve been busy, busy being diabetically ill, busy being worried. Busy! Busy! Busy!

(Also, my aforementioned love…well..it’s a long distance one and it is tough.)

But….I give you, my faithful reader, a pleasant picture of a creek near my home. I hope it is as relaxing as I think it is.

I’m sorry that I seem to be in a cranky mood.  Correction:  I am in a cranky mood.  There is no “seem” about it. My love’s life has kicked him in the butt — with a combination of different issues that I’m not free to discuss–and we’ve had to delay our plans.  In fact, we’re not going to be able to communicate very much for awhile.  Yeah, it’s bad for him. REALLY bad. I’m keeping him in my heart and thoughts for the time being.

Oddly enough, both he and my deceased grandfather have the same birthday.  Valentine’s Day.   I think my grandfather would like my love’s sweetness.  My love really does remind me of my grandfather; they share a lot of the same qualities.

Hmm.  My grandfather.  I remember him as a conscientious objector; a gentle and peaceful man who truly hated war and violence.    He was firm when he had to be, though, and always loving to me.  Always there to hug and give me a treat.  Ronald Reagan reminds me a lot of my grampa, too.  Grampa had that kind of sunny solidness that felt so dependable and timeless.  I think I miss him.  He’s been gone since ’95.   Fourteen years.

It’s sort of the painful kind of funny that someone can still be missed after so long.

Time doesn’t heal wounds. Hard work and self reflection do.

Time heals all wounds. Hardly. That platitude makes it sound like all you have to do is relax and be lazy and waiting for healing to begin. Something atrocious happen to you? Just wait and voila! Five years later? All better! Not even an emotional scar!

Bullshit to that. I say that you have to want to heal, to learn ways of coping. Healing isn’t a passive activity. Healing requires a willingness to work and learn about yourself.

Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy, nor should it.

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

I likeSims 3. It is addicting! In fact, that’s pretty much how I spent my weekend. Playing that darn game. Running the lives of characters on my laptop, making them happy. Fun times. I guess I like to manage and be bossy to people.

(Oh, I still like WoW, but I need a break from it. After awhile, Warcraft just gets to be the same old same old. I have, after all, been playing that game for over three years.)

As for the Sims, don’t buy it. You’ll never stop playing it.

But in all seriousness, I also went to go see Alice in Wonderland. I had to get out of the house, else cabin fever come upon me. I liked it, for the acting and the interesting visuals. Very trippy. The writing was a little stiff, but it was a lovely movie to look at–especially with Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter. But not every film can be a Citizan Kane, right

Ananda? I’ve been thinking about your question regarding the best thing a friend has done for me. I don’t know what that is. I’ve been kicked around by a lot of different people. I don’t know why I have had such bad luck with so called friends. Maybe it’s because I sought out the wrong type of folks, desperate to find any sort of affection/attention. The fault may lay within me. It seems that I’ve always been searching for acceptance and love. I have difficulty discerning intent in others, always seeing the best in everyone.

But my life hasn’t been completely terrible. I do have a few good friends, even though I don’t trust readily. (That has to be earned.) The best thing a friend has done for me was to listen to my fears after I was diagnosed with diabetes.

Upgraded to slightly alive

Why is life so complicated? Not that I’m complaining, really. Just lack of time to do what I want. And I hardly have anything to show for it.

I come home, relax, turn around, then go to bed. Bleh.  (I’ve been hitting the gym at work 4 times a week. Dagnabit.)

So tired.

Inappropriate Quote For the Day

Writing is like making love. Sometimes you want a partner, sometimes you want to do it by yourself. —Me.

Blogging Anniversary

Six years of blogging. Or is it seven? I forget. I know! How could I forget something so important? (It’s six…I think. Don’t quote me on that.)

Wow. Six years. Quite a commitment. Quite a lot of words written and electronically submitted for the whole world to see. Enough for a couple of books. Time enough to have changed and altered in ways that I had not anticipated. To grow in maturity and to regret taking my good health for granted.

Six years. I could have done so much, and I think I did, but not the way I had originally envisioned it. My life hasn’t turned out exactly how I wanted it, but turned out how I needed it. I needed a wake up call regarding my health (Yeah, I know that I can be healthy and be diabetic. It isn’t the end of the world.). I needed to get my emotional intelligence up where it should be, too. Given my age and all.

Speaking of age, tomorrow (the 7th) is my 35th birthday.

I am now decrepit. There are wrinkles under my eyes, where there were no wrinkles before. I’ve even noticed a gray hair. Or two, maybe even three.

But I have never felt better about myself.