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Ha ha, two hundred words since it is now the next day. New year is off ot a bang with the champagne we consumed this evening. Staying home was great, watching all the other celebrations on TV. TV is the best invention ever. Russia's fireworks sucked, but Athens, Greece, had really rocking ones. More rocking than Dick Clark, ha ha. I am so drunk. We did not win Powerball, unfortunately. Dammit. That fucking sucks. We can't retire early like we were planning. Best New Year's, just my man and me, drinking Moet, watching TV, eating cheese fondue and chocolate cake.
It strikes me that my entries have become trite. Should I babble on about Tommy jewelry and my new Candies boots? Laud the new scent by Givenchy, as if wearing "Very Irresistible" will make me so? Need something new and fresh coming from me, creativity. All I seem to come up with these days is creative ways to make college easier. I fudged a little to get my independent study approved. Work and school are barely balancing, I'm still not in the clear, and telling gray stories to both sides, hoping it will all shake out in my favor. Stretched.
Bright sunshine envelops me as I emerge from the shady carport. A few seconds to the gym. In my sweat suit and baseball cap I look cute and get more attention than I want. Just let me do my weights in peace already. Christina sings in my ears so I can ignore the strutters and mutha's. Oooh, I will be sore tomorrow. Hurts so good. Get home, order up a fruit smoothie from my stainless steel Cuisinart. Putting a carrot in doesn't seem to hurt and I'll put more in next time so I get my veggies without tasting them.
He turns. He looks. A look becomes a stare. Is it admiration or disgust? Does she care? Displeasure seems to be the word for the day. She feels sick and that puts her in a nasty mood. She tries to be kind, making him snacks like banana bread and a fruit smoothie and graham crackers with white frosting. However he just wants to watch football and be left alone. His bet must be losing. She doesn't remember what team he bet and she doesn't dare ask in case he is losing. One of those days you just aren't loving life.
This month is off with a bang. First day of work went well. It will be just exactly to my liking. Too bad I have to start classes soon. That will be a hellish schedule, what with work during the day and classes at night. Not to mention that Summerlin is like way far away from my stinking campus, yeah. So jaunt on over there after work and try to stay awake. Gotta plan meals ahead, like on weekends, so we do not starve or eat Del Taco junk all week. So much thinking, my head is starting to ache.
Today was easier at work, now that I am basically done training and have some idea of what I am doing now. Paying bills is what I enjoy, especially when it is not my money, plus with the research element it makes it interesting. The best part is minimal human contact, be in my own little world. I am much more relaxed tonight. My class schedule is starting to actually come together smoothly, God be thanked. And Merlot never hurt an evening's relaxation either. I need to really go to bed before I start getting chilly. Amazing delicious hot shower.
Revelation. I no longer have the urge to make friends at work or seek socialization. My work keeps me occupied so that I need not find amusement to fill my day. Astounding. Sure, I smile and say good morning to the guys and say hi to other women in the bathroom (cringe); I even chatted during my lunch today, though quickly making my exit to the computer lounge where I can relax undisturbed by everyone's thoughts on the latest in news or culture. But my workday flies by relatively quiet and undisturbed, listening to music or radio. Interesting work too.
Speed. Work behind me. School draws closer and closer. Yikes – work is so much easier than school. And simpler. I still don't have my schedule totally set. It is going to be last minute. I want to go buy the new Fountains of Wayne. Almost bought it the other day when I got Aguilera, but was too chicken shit. Had to listen to a few clips on the net first to be sure I was going to like it. This entry is really dull, isn't it? Make me proud, little words. Someday little words will make me rich and famous.
My muse. Where have you gone? Stress and weariness have driven you away for the moment. You are hiding in there somewhere, deep in the caverns of my somewhat twisted mind. In the shadows, I will seek you and find you. Or is he the tall man who constantly bugs me and keeps me from accomplishing any big projects? Does this love of my life mysteriously also remain my inspiration while at the same time being the biggest distraction from the poetic arts? Perhaps our life is the only poetry I need. Quiet sweetheart. No, don't be – you're a song.
Funny how you can be many things. Sorrow spilling out. Ecstatic joy that cannot be contained inside a person and must splash out through the windows of the soul. Feeling pain for someone else's pain or troubles. Even unreal characters one sympathizes with. You can be the physical reflex of a whacked shin. You can be the forced fake call for sympathy, or the confusion of many different emotions battling for control inside one. Life couldn't do without you, although many times we wish you would go away. But really, you bring us the relief that nothing else can. Tears.
Jose. Jose. My friend Jose. Aguilera says beware those Latin lovers. Well, you are only a friend and I only indulge once a while for a celebratory toast. Kim's birthday was a good excuse. We got her that Dooney & Burke purse she has been idolizing. This makes her second one so far. I can't stand them. There was one Coach one I like. The Louis Vuitton ones are ugly as hell in my opinion. Status symbol my ass. Tomorrow is my last week of no school. UGH! I am dreading getting back into the classroom, my last official semester.
Gotta hurry. He wants to take turns doing massages in the bedroom. One of our fave things. I'm so lucky to have a man like him. My stomach has been hurting off and on all day. At least my left arm doesn't ache anymore. Earlier I thought it was going to fall off. The neighbors upstairs are so freaking noisy. Why do you have to run across the apartment every ten minutes? Those BLTs I made weren't as good as I hoped. The bacon could have been crispier. What else can I say…the "Stripped" CD is amazingly good. Hasta menyana.
Another day almost over. I was listening to the Five for Fighting (or is it John Mayer?) song about years of life going by, and thinking about how I will wish this time was back. And we spend our lives thinking of the future and then wishing for the past. To this point, I haven't really wished for the past, as my present is so much better than ever before. Well, when my man was in law school, that was a pretty awesome time too, I could wish for those times again. What we have now is so much more.
Going to the gym and working out all the stressors is what I want to do. But I know the after-work crowd will be there, since of course everybody has to get off at the same freaking time and wants to work out before going home to dinner and TV. So in about an hour, everyone will be clearing out and I'll have my pick of the machines. Our hope is that these gym machines never turn against us and start working US out. God if they had emotion they must be angry from all the tough treatment and misuse.
Tonight is great. PF Chang's, always a favorite dinner spot. My man has been so sweet to me tonight, and we had such a great conversation about all kinds of things. I got some odds and ends tied up this morning with my little trip to campus. Then a not quite full day of work, but still got a lot accomplished and I'm getting better every day, as this is only my second week on the job. Now I will go watch Seinfeld and rub my sweetheart's back as he is a bit sore and achy. Life is really good.
Happily she jumped up and down, dancing in a circle. Her stress level dropped significantly. A long day of frustrating work has ended. Her class schedule is set to go. Everything is going along very smoothly. Her man will be home soon and sounds like he is in a great mood, so that bodes well for a pleasant evening. Perhaps a glass of Merlot. There is a stack of books on the table that she isn't even going to touch until Tuesday. What's the point? The dread classes will come soon enough. She is even interested in them this semester.
Smell. Chocolate brownies. Is that redundant? Aren't all brownies chocolate? If they weren't, they'd be whities. Sound. Clicking of laptop keys. Bed squeaks in the other room as he lies down to read his book. Sight. A bouquet of dried roses that he brought me a few months back as fresh ones. The sight brings back the lovely scent. Touch. The smooth plastic keys and the furry roughness of the carpet on my legs, but closer than that, the softness of my gray sweats. Smell overwhelms the other senses as the brownies bake to completeness. I must take them out.
Really need to learn how to balance tasks and manage my time better. I suck at it. It comes 10:00 and I really should go to bed since I need to get up early for work tomorrow, but I still have to finish the laundry which already sat in the washer for too long and the shirts probably wrinkled, which means ironing tomorrow night, probably. And I still have to write my 100 words, which means starting up the computer and taking a load off my feet for five minutes. That is actually nice. That movie took too much time.
Relax. Breathe. You can keep all your yoga and Pilates. Just give me a few deep breaths, some stretches, a few muscle workout moves, and I'm good. The abs are getting hard as we speak, I can feel it. The spinach is dissolving in my stomach and sending out little tiny minerals and vitamins to my organs and tissues. Hey – I didn't know Ray Romano's older brother had a part on a Seinfeld episode. I can't count the number of people who have had great careers after being bit players on that great show. No show can ever top it.
Lunch break. Hot sauce. Avocado in my burrito. Line at the post office. Mailed Lexi's present. Guy behind me in line was making an impatient whistling noise so I gave him a cold ugly look. Tummy is getting full. Called my baby. He ate a burrito too. I guess this is a burrito town. This chick behind me is chillin with her homies on the cell. Talk about ghetto. "You ain't never seen her? I don't think that's cool, yeah." Back to English. Tonight is my first class of the semester. Maybe it will turn out really fascinating. Accounting? Doubtful.
The music album is a fascinating invention. Is it one of the few things which one buys without being entirely sure of what one is buying. Surprise! You love it, hate it, or are indifferent. Although you may be sure of liking a couple of the songs, having heard them on the radio, you never know about the other ten or twelve. There could be bombs or it could be The Bomb. Entirely, the album may be not at all what you expected, but enjoyable nonetheless. It's an experiment. Perhaps the results are good, perhaps dreadful, but now you know.
Happiness fills her almost to explosion with the realization that her life is really good. She loves her man, her job, and even her studies. Those brief moments of awareness that come sporadically send an electric surge of joy into her heart and mind, as she realizes that she could not ask for a better situation in this world. Her man is so sweet, kind, thoughtful, fun-loving, crazy, hard-working, a big tease, and completely lovable and irresistible. Getting up in the morning is a rush to get to the place where I really enjoy my job (a first?). Life complete.
Writing during my lunch break seems to work out well. Not that I don't stare at a computer enough during the day, but what the hell. My new jeans fit great. They are comfy. It is too loud in here - why can't people shut up in the computer break room already? I mean, after all, this is MY time, and I want QUIET, goddamit! Hard to write anything halfway interesting without a little peace. I was watching Moulin Rouge last night on TV, as well as Will and Grace and Extreme Makeover (the latter being two of my favorites).
Searing pain rips through his body as it convulses and thrashes against the floor. His head whacks against the hard surface of the cold wall and all he can envision is self-mutilation. Why? Why? Why? The only one that ever loved him is now threatening to leave him. His life now seems somewhat pointless. Have these years been wasted on loving someone who doesn't care anymore? But she does care and just is too angry to show it. Or is she? Does she really hate him? He can't stand the suspense. Just love me or kill me, he thinks. Please.
What a crazy messy day. First my baby takes me all around town to find a financial calculator that is all sold out. We got the last one in Las Vegas. Meanwhile, my bruised tailbone is killing me every time I get in and out of the Explorer. So we got me an inflatable ring to sit on that I will need to take to work and school. Fun, fun. Then we get home and the sewer in the building is backed up and our bathroom is a shitty place. So now it is being cleaned out and disinfected. Crap.
Too tired. Tummy hurts. Tailbone hurts. I'm a mess, a wreck. Wish I just were sailing along on a breeze instead of all these little ruts and allegorical sprained ankles. It isn't enough that my schedule is hectic, I gotta get road bumps and pot holes to go along with it. Laundry is going. Bathroom is finally clean. I didn't know the tub was actually white – a lot of the previous residents' stains came up. They cleaned everything superbly – my baby thinks it is because they know he is a lawyer and don't want us to give them any trouble.
Spinning out of control, the fury burns within her. Once again, the computer is way too slow and I am way ahead. Catch up, you monster you. Someday will these machines actually take over? They are just too damn behind the eight ball for that to happen. So long, fear of the Terminator becoming a reality. Safety in the speed and ingenuity of the human mind. Content to rest in the belief that I am smarter than this machine. But I am also many years older than it is. Yikes! Perhaps I should rethink feeling safe. The Terminator cometh! No!
Words. They are becoming an obession. I think I may be addicted to writing a hundred words each day. If forced to stop, withdrawals might ensue. At least I don't have an addiction to anything really dangerous. Ending up like my poor mother is not my idea of a happy life. Drunken calls to everyone she knows, which she later cannot seem to recall. Now my father is forced to get her calls blocked through the phone company. At least I convinced him not to file a restraining order against her. Sigh. Constantly the family mediator to solve all disputes.
All is in order and I can relax. No pressing assignments. I have my work cut out for the weekend, but for today all is calm. My baby is playful tonight. It is so sweet how he leaves me the good parking spot and makes me dinner. Mom bought us chef-prepared frozen dinners like the movie stars get. So we are trying those tonight. Neither of us like normal frozen dinners, not even DiGornio, but these should be yummy. And don't you even mention the word study as tonight I will not study. Unless guilt prevails. Like avoiding the gym.
So ends the week. It has been almost three months that I've been spilling a few of my daily thoughts onto paper. Paper? Screen. Tonight I just want to empty my mind of all pressing thoughts and relax and enjoy Friday night. My honey is out with his buddy so I get the evening all to myself. Good and yet, what shall I do? Watch a movie, have some Merlot, maybe jet down to Smith's and get a Haagen-Dazs, although that won't help my healthy-eating resolution. It is sooo great to be fit but takes a lot of self control.
The end. My friend. But the end means only the beginning of the next phase of life and seasons and cycles. Taxes and financial aid applications are coming due. February brings a holiday for lovers and a holiday from work. And lots of studying, which I am taking a break from now to write. Much more than I have to do this weekend, which is minimal comparatively. My man is couching and watching Love Potion No. 9 on TV. It is almost over. He made us fresh chunky, spicy guacamole. It is so good with Ruffles. Ok back to studying.
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