Okay, look.
Here is the deal.
I am dreadfully boring.
I do not MEAN to be. I just kind of am.
I am so dreadfully boring, I think about my days sometimes and they make ME fall asleep. I am not sufficiently interesting to interest MYSELF. And usually, I am my own favorite topic of conversation.
I feel completely out-of-the-loop because I am no longer on AIM all day, so I have no idea what is happening with any of my friends.
I was all fucking SET to go to culinary school, with loan applications and such happening on July 15, the date my previous student loan is all sorted out -- the product of twelve months' work. Now, of course, I cannot get federal aid because I made too much last year and they do not care about my unemployment, and I cannot get a private loan because I am unemployed and they do not care about last year's income. So, that was fun. If I had been laid off, say, two, three weeks later, I would have been fine. Golden. Dancing through the daisies. Instead, now I have to get another fucking full-time computer job, build up a history with them, and then apply for a loan in six months. Of course, I could get a loan with a co-signer, but when I very VERY reluctantly asked my mother, she replied with an "Absolutely not. I can't risk my credit that way. No way," which left me feeling all warm and fuzzy, as I am sure you could imagine. This is all by way of saying that I have been on the razor's edge of tearing out my hair and screaming myself hoarse for just about every minute of the past two weeks.
On the plus side, I am in a play this summer. Twelfth Night. Malvolio. If you are in New York the first two weekends of August, you have to come see it. We are going to be fantastic and funny as all hell. So, yes. Do that.
Also, while I sit in my living room all day, at least it is a pretty color. Satin Ruby Slippers indeed.
I am making friends with a new cartoon: Code Lyoko. I really like their theme music. Also, it is kind of anime, but it is also totally French, which I dig.
And furthermore, since I am not doing anything else, I have taken to working out. (pause for shocked gasps and over-keelings) Mike bought this thing called the "POWER 90!" a while back, and it has been sitting in a corner for quite some time. So last week, I busted it out. In 90 days...well, in 82 days now...I am going to be SUPER RIPPED. I am even contemplating posting a horribly embarrassing "before" picture on here, just so I have the extra goad of mortal shame spurring me on to the heights of pumpitude. So if you see some SUPER RIPPED guy walking around Park Slope in October, say hi. It might be me!
And besides all that, despite my maudlin and, as I said at the beginning, intensely boring, attitude -- things are actually fairly okay. I am not going to be evicted, I am not going to starve. And I am doing my level best to avoid the siren lure of turning on Passions, beloved soap opera of joy, in the middle of the day. You know that when you start watching soap operas, that is really the beginning of the end.
So, there you have it. I just figure that one's 500th entry should be full of drama. Angst. Human interest. Emotion. Now we can all hope for a rebound "Everything's okay after all!" episode soon. Five Hundred for me! Now where is my Oscar?