Work went okay today. My normal job was humdrum, except for I got to do a new thing. It was pretty easy, and something that I was supposed to do when I first started working there but they decided not to have me do it. Now that I’m not going to college, I actually have time to do it.
My new job was really fun and cool, I really bonded with Laurie, the lady there that is training me. She is totally cool. Imagine her as Roseanne, minus 50 lbs. and with red hair. We Bush-bashed. It was nice. And I demonstrated my utmost competence. Towards the end of the night when she got tired I was basically running the whole show.
Me and my mom went to the beach today, and I washed my car. It got totally caked with bird shit. And of course, since it got washed, it will get caked again tomorrow. I have such a headache. When I got home it looked like my dad had jotted down the name of someone at my work. How many fucking brain cells does it take for him to give them my cell phone number? How many? Stupid old man. Die and get it over with or give them my number. Bloody hell.
I talked with Selena today after I got off work, I really miss hanging out with her. I will call her after I get off work tomorrow to see if she wants to go to the fair. My mother sent me an e-mail saying she found someone to go on all the rides with me. She means well, but she doesn’t understand. I meant one of my friends. But I don’t have any friends. Not anymore. All I have is acquaintances. I haven’t talked to Joe since last week. For all I know, he could be in Portland. He’ll probably be a successful something or other, but still a Republican.
The more I think about it, the more I don’t feel like the Democrat/Republican battle matters. Now that I have money, I should get that Simone de Beauvoir novel All Men Are Mortal. From what I read about it, she metaphorically argues the point that people make the same mistakes over and over again. All the letters to the editor I read in the Triplicate, the crazed rantings of old men screaming at the tops of their lungs to make us forget the truth and pledge unconditional allegiance President Bush, they scare me. I’m sure at some small newspaper in 1940s Germany, the same letters were published. I fear we’re about to have World War III. And this time, there’s no one that can stand up to us. Hitler tried to take over the world to enslave it, we’re going to take it over to “set it free.”
Operation Iraqi Freedom, right?
Next on the list is Operation World Peace.
But don’t listen to me. I’m just a disposable American.
I wish Ripley would come online. I’m lonely. I don’t want to go to the fair tomorrow. I don’t want to go alone. And they don’t want to go with whoever my mother has found for me. That’s worse than going alone: going with someone your mother found for you.
I must stop listening to The Cure. It’s just making me weepy and emotional. But OMG I thought of the coolest memory when I was watching Daria tonight!
It was from back when I was going out with Taggart. He would come back from his job at the pizza place and I would crawl into his arms on the dilapidated sofa and breathe in the pizza aroma mixed with the Camels he smoked, mixed with his cologne. It was incredibly sexy. And I would just hold him as we watched movies thinking “I’m home. This is all I need. This is all I ever wanted.”
It was a nice time. But nothing good ever lasts. Well, I guess I should face it: the sex wasn’t so great. But at least I was emotionally fulfilled. And you can never really feel right having sex with bisexuals. In the back of my mind I always thought that he was imagining having sex with a chick. But he enjoyed doing a lot of things that are impossible in straight sex. That’s probably why he used me. The fact is, even if I was a hermaphrodite, he would still dump me and move on because he can’t be satisfied with one person.
Anyway, I shouldn’t be bringing all this old crap up. If you want to read the happiest posts ever in the whole history of my blog, look at the posts from late December or early January of 2003/2004.
I really need to find a way to hide all of my old posts, because the only time that I will find out if that insane freak Amanda B. is scouring my entries looking for dirt is if my boss asks me into his office. When I post this I will look into it.
I really need to go through every single post I’ve ever written and attempt to edit the offending ones. I’m sure there would only be two or three that would get me into trouble. But I have over 2000 posts. And let’s face it: that would take FOREVER.
I brought up my blog on the production computer (1.8GHz G5, whoo!) at my second job, and the text looked all weird and I could barely read it. Let it be known for all time: I don’t like serif fonts. They look funky unless you have a really good monitor. But I guess I can dislike it all I want, since I have no idea how to change it. Well, actually do have a pretty good idea but my wrists are killing me this week and I don’t feel like experimenting.
Do any of you guys have a problem reading stuff? I think I could bump up the text size a bit without too much trouble.
Anyway, I should probably wrap up this diatribe about my endless struggle against nothing. It’s 1:26 a.m. What’s that quote?
It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Google says it’s from Macbeth. I always thought it was some other writer. Hmm.
400 or so years later and we can’t say it any better. I need some sleep. A lot of sleep.
Categories: Meditations on work,Melancholy,Nostalgia
