SMR some ducks...
LIB... MR ducks!
I think there's another line in there, but I can't remember what it is exactly. In my horrible little mind, it goes something like SMR some ducks... CMP?
Ugh. I'm back at blogpost one. I've written and edited and reduced and erased and deleted... The pressure to be engaging here is fierce. I'm not sure I can be anything but boring, maybe a little whiny, definitely bordering on philosophical. Would you still respect me in the morning?
[SUMMARY: I still have OC stuff, but mostly O stuff. I still have issues. They haven't changed since yesterday.]
A list**. A list would keep the mental shitstorm semi-brief, semi-controlled. Besides, lists are oh-so-blog. All the cool bloggers do lists.
I present to you mindbits, in no particular order... Well, we could get all Freudian about it and determine there are no accidents, nothing is random, but I'll leave that up to you. You're young, you're strong. You're full of piss and vinegar and high hopes... I'm old and I don't think I have the energy.
- Um, no knitting pictures. Awake at 4:00, up at 4:30 (the noise of the morning papers hitting the porches makes it almost impossible for me to go back to sleep), did a load of laundry, cleaned a little in anticipation of Book Club, found too late the camera battery was dead. It's on the charger. Knitting pictures are still forthcoming. Things will still get better.
- I did not finish the Book Club book, though I only have 40 pages and I read fast.
- Kelly called at 11:00 yesterday morning to say, "I already need a cocktail if you still want to go out." We did. It was good. I was mostly good -- i.e. I didn't ask a lot of questions about The Boy (like "Why, Kelly? Why did The Boy leave like that? Did he tell you anything? Was it something I said? Something I did? Does he ever talk about me? Is he seeing anyone? Do you think you could tell him I got my nipples pierced and remind him of my phone number?" Yeah, that would have been embarrassing). And I'm sorry and a little ashamed for writing her off under the heavy cloud of my own paranoia and self-esteem issues. She's better than that, even if I'm a mess. And today's title? My reaction to finding Kelly had called. I said it out loud, "L I B..."
- Called my boy-best-friend, Steve, when I got home. I like to talk to Steve, and it's not just 'cause he's a boy who will give me strokes (yet generally be honest with me, even about hard stuff, so I can *trust* the strokes). It's because he's way up as one of the smartest people I know and thinks things like The Traffic Channel are funny too ("too" as in, "AntiM thinks the concept of The Traffic Channel is funny and Steve does too.") Anyway... Told him I blog. Gave him the URL. Realised...
- ...there is a sort of moral issue (or at least a timeless, internal struggle) to all this, isn't there? I mean, I've watched Laurie post her Christmas presents on her blog (instructing the future recipients to forget they saw them), blithely talk of vibrators and wine ("Not wine, Dad! No sir! Coke for me! And all those batteries are really coming in handy for my vast collection of remote controls!") I'm paraphrasing -- Laurie may never have mentioned remote controls. And Marcy actually had a sort of coming out process. So what if I want my dad to read this and it's all full of "fuck" and stuff? And what if I want to whine about a Steve thing but I know he might read it? And do I really want written proof of my dorkitude and angst? How does one maintain blogtherapy under these anti-confidential circumstances?
- HOWEVER... If you were passive-aggressive, this could be a real boon. All you'd have to do is post about the things you don't want to say real-live-in-person and you'd accomplish the communication, if under the auspices of cowardice. Hmmmm... I'll have to remember that. I'm not a big fan of passive-aggressive (being solidly in the "aggressive" camp myself), but it can be a useful tool. If nothing else, it might be a good way to hint for the right birthday and Christmas presents.
- Last week, I uttered (actually emailed) the following phrase, which is so good out of context I'm not even going to tell you how it came about: I know the juggling is all in my mind.
- I have to bake something for Book Club tonight. Or at least provide something. It's a good thing I work well under pressure.
- I'm hungry. Lunch isn't for another three hours (I'm meeting Laurie -- not that Laurie, Laurie-without-a-link -- and the Suburban Sedation Crew for lunch. BIG social week for this little black duck. Speaking of ducks, remind me to tell you someday about all-purpose ducks. This has just become the mother of all parenthetic boondoggles. Was I really talking about ducks?) and I'm starving. I think eating 200 calories of Lean Cuisine yesterday, then capping the day with 1000 calories of alcohol didn't do my body good. OK, now thinking about being up at 4:30 is making me tired. I'm like a four-year-old.
- Every list needs a ten (unless, in Spinal Tap fashion, the list goes to eleven). Do y'all watch Pardon the Interruption on ESPN? Love me some Tony Kornheiser. Here's a Mr. Tony phrase (that's not me, that's what he calls himself. I know your loathing of him is growing by the second, but he's really a good and funny head), used when there is such an elite group it bears pointing out just how *tiny* the list is: "That's it, that's the list."
[SUMMARY: I still have no knitting pictures. I am *really* pushing my realm of possibility with tonight's Book Club. I drink, and if I'm lucky, I drink with Kelly. Or Steve. Speaking of Steve (and ducks), I'm worried about having to censor myself, either via limiting my talking points or limiting my audience. I'm a four-year-old who likes Tony Kornheiser who calls himself "Mr. Tony," and that's not as vile as it sounds. I may always have these same issues.]
So that's it, that's the list. Boring, babbling, bungling and all. But I will discipline myself not to edit again... STICK, DAMNIT, STICK!
Knitting pictures. It will all be better with knitting pictures.
**FOOTNOTE: Does anybody else find it weird that the list function places bullets inside the numbers on the list? Also, I didn't asterisk it (don't you love verbing nouns?), but did y'all notice the very festive links I inserted under number 9 up there? I am so proud. I am such a dork.