Okay, so I have been trying really, really hard to have a better attitude. I went to LA, I sat in the sunshine, I got a hobby or 6, and I’ve been trying really, really hard to be okay with things.
But days like today get me a little closer to understanding why is it that people blow shit up.
Alright. I don’t really mean that. And it’s not just because of the Patriot Act and my fear of the government. But come on!
Seriously, WTF?! The job search situation blows. The interview process makes me want to scratch someone’s eyes out – probably my own. The house-hunting situation is testing my patience and my nerves. The painfully slow renovation process at my gym – the fucking renovation that most certainly was NOT mostly done by the beginning of January – is killing me. The dysfunction of my family is sending me over the edge. My screwed up friendships are starting to plague me… again.
Jesus fucking Christ!
Yeah, I got it. I suck. I make terrible decisions. I should have stayed at the cushy law firm and just accepted my life of quiet desperation. And I should have been a good little saver who didn’t spend her money on martinis and Mediterranean vacations and flat-panel TVs. I get it, Universe. I get it. I fucked up. But how the fuck could I have known that we would be faced with the 2nd Great Depression and that my world would blow up this way? How? How, Universe? Fucking tell me!
And I get the irony of this post being the one immediately following that crappy fate one. That’s me, Ms. Irony.
Fuck the interviewing process. Fuck the house-hunting. Fuck the gym. Fuck John Cusack. Fuck it. I will just eat my emotions. Cheeseburger? Yes. Ice cream? With dark hot chocolate? And wet walnuts? Yes, yes, yes. Maybe if I eat this ice cream and smoke like a carton of cigarettes and make a dent in my gallon-bottle of vodka and mix it all up into a paste, maybe, just maybe I will feel better. At least, I can hope.
And now I see the silver lining… I haven’t lost hope. Phew.