Loopier by the Minute

I hate it when I go this long without updating, because then I feel like my first entry “back” needs to be all long and involved and tell stories and have pictures and rainbows and unicorns and frosting with sprinkles.  So then I procrastinate more, and don’t finish my half-eaten entries, and it gets more and more irrelevant and I feel more and more like the next update needs to be a piece de resistance, and then I don’t update some more and it’s a vicious cycle and I post comments on other things I’m reading and wonder why I even bother LINKING to my blog anymore when I DON’T FUCKING UPDATE but then I think “but what if you do update and you have missed this opportunity to whore yourself out for more readers?!?  And plus if you don’t post a link then everyone in the comments thread will be all ‘who the fuck is this bitch and why doesn’t she have a website?’”

So fuck Thanksgiving and Christmas, because they’re holidays, and honestly, there is no stories of hilarity and mayhem which would make for any sort of interesting reading.  I mean, other than my stepfather’s annual bitch about my lotion giving him a headache…when (a) it’s the same lotion I had approved last year, because he always throws a goddamn fit and then sulks and makes my mom upset and (b) I seriously was in the house with the motherfucker for maybe 5 minutes and I was in a totally different room at the opposite end of the house so I don’t even know how he smelled it.  It was Bath & Body Sweet Pea, for fuck’s sake, not Floweredy Grandma Mothball Ass. 

That, and at Thanksgiving, I had this totally random airport conversation with a guy about politics and fat acceptance.  And I think he was hitting on me.  Which is kind of screwy, because I looked like an utter pile of shit.  I was sick.  I had on my glasses.  I had no makeup on AT ALL, was wearing an ugly too big t-shirt that I usually only wear for sleeping, and had on my striped rain shoes.  Plus, when he struck up the conversation, I had my nose implanted in a book and my face implanted in a chili dog.  Desperation is not attractive, dude. Then, on the plane, sat next to an older guy who said he was a psychiatrist, and he probably was – you could tell he’d been listening to people talk all day because I don’t think he shut up between Oklahoma City and Denver.  And then he acted all disappointed that Denver was not my final destination.

Christmas, I dragged Lando along, and he seemed to get along fine with the family.  Presents were bought (his shortly AFTER Christmas, because I kept getting answers of what he wanted like “world peace” and “a new car.”)

The above paragraphs are why I am seriously questioning my writing ability lately.  I feel like I have worked so long for attorneys – where it’s all about presenting factual information – that I’m not sure how to rant about things anymore.  Or how to provide an actual description of something or talk about what is swirling in my head. 

I guess the problem is that I am feeling a lack of creativity.  I feel like all the thoughts I’m having are something someone has already written about, and in a more cohesive and articulate fashion, and that anything I have to contribute is nonessential, noncreative, and stupid. 

I think I really just need a goddamn vacation.  A vacation that does not involve one or both of the parents.  I was going to try to sneak one in at the end of the month, but then I got a jury summons for Christmas. 

Plus, it’s FEDERAL jury duty.  You can’t bring phones with cameras.  That leaves out pretty much every phone manufactured today (my friend CL, who works for one of the judges, said to just tell the guards it doesn’t have one and they won’t confiscate it).  They say you can bring a laptop, but can’t bring it in the courtroom (I’m sure this doesn’t apply to lawyers trying cases, which is bullshit).  Blah blah.  Must go to bookstore this weekend.  Must also locate Nintendo DS, which is hiding somewhere under the bed. 

I’m hoping that once they find out I know half the lawyers in town and have worked for the other half, they will perhaps not make me stay there very long.

Finally, Edmund Hillary just died today?

Even though I’ve read/seen some things on the history of Mt. Everest, I guess I had it in my head that the first person who got credit for summiting was already long dead. 

Why I feel the need to mention this, I don’t know, other than it weirds me out to see that someone died who I thought was dead already. 

My sense of time lately is just fried.