Today I Slept Through My Alarm Clock. However, I Did Not Get "Written Up."

Aah. The great thing about having a more professional job is that there is no time clock. If something comes up and I arrive a bit later than planned, I just call and alert my boss to the situation. No sweat. Hardly ever happens anyways. However, this in no way makes up for the fact that I have to work harder than my old job. Thank you.

I Return To Normal

Nothing to see here. Please keep moving. Just a normal person doing normal person things. For example, a few days ago I spent a thrilling evening balancing my checkbook. I have also recently attended the grocery store where I purchased such normal person items like fruit, bread, and frozen vegetables. The fruit consisted of three partially-ripened bananas and some bluberries, in case you are wondering. This evening I continued on my journey through life as a normal well-adjusted person by doing some yoga before reading two plays by William Butler Yeats. I know all of this may seem out of reach to you right now, but this lifestyle could be yours too if you really wanted it. Thank you.

Erroneously, I Stated That From Now On My Cat, Gerard Butler, Would Be Known As MCGB. Really, I Meant To Say: MC,GB

MC,GB insists on proper punctuation

Personally, I think commas are a stylistic choice, but then I wrote a novel without them.

In other news, I waited 45 minutes for the bus today. I am pretty sure some of the passing drivers circled around more than once just to gloat.

In even other news, I have not fallen into any sort of relapse situation with that regret, sorrow, and longing I was moping about yesterday. I also ate a sandwich today. Such a conglomeration of flavors.

Lately I've Started To Feel Like The Bad Queen In Beowulf Who Can't Keep The Peace And Has To Go Live With Her Brother

The past sort of caught up with me this last weekend and I found myself drowning in a tidal wave of regret, sorrow, and longing for approximately 32 minutes. Then I was fine again. I was hanging out with a long-lost friend from days of yore and then she told me something that made me, again, feel like I was drowning in a tidal wave of regret, sorrow, and longing for, again, approximately 32 minutes. That being said, the tidal wave of regret, sorrow, and longing was not so wet or nasty that I couldn't finish my sandwich, even within the 32 minute time frame of acute regret, sorrow, and longing. The sandwich was a BLT with avocado on wheat and really gave me something to hang on to, almost like a little sandwich life raft in a sea of regret, sorrow, and, longing. That really didn't last 32 whole minutes, if you think about it, because part of the 32 minutes was really just coming down from riding the tidal wave of regret, sorrow, and longing. So now we're talking more like 25 minutes. Still, I think it would be better for everyone if I just bound my heart up with cord and never let it out again. This would bring me down to zero minutes of regret, sorrow, and longing. Thank you.

I Went Running This Morning. Afterwards I Felt Like I Was Going To Throw Up.

Other than that, though, it went great. I would say something here about the wind in my hair but I do not think I was moving fast enough for that. Also I would say something about the music I was listening to and how each pulsing beat really inspired me to push harder, but my iPod is broken. Unfortunately. The good news is that the pain in my lungs stopped relatively quickly and I was not bitten by any stray dogs. Thank you.

From Now On, My Cat, Gerard Butler, Will Be Known As MCGB.

MCGB tries out his new acronym.

At some point I have to ask myself if this MCGB business is all just a really silly joke or am I becoming a crazy cat lady. According to Brent Cunningham I am crazy. (Brent has a Masters degree in something so clearly he's right.) Also, I clearly have a cat. Therefore, the only question remaining is: am I a lady? Now might be a good (belch)time to mention the headbutting incident when I was twenty or that last night in the living room I had to be reminded to clean up my toenail clippings. Nope. Not very ladylike indeed. It looks like I am just a Crazy Cat. This sounds much less like a frightening, lonely picture of a muttering woman in a bathrobe with frizzy hair and much more like enthusiastic, well-adjusted jazz hands. I guess I will just have to live with thaaaa-aat.

Also, I wrote a short story. You can read it here.

Screw Living For The Weekend. I'm Living For The Evening.

Sometimes I wish I had never been "rescued" from the family of wolves that raised me in the forest preserves outside Chicago . Sure, that would mean having to forgo human-style luxuries like indoor plumbing, book-learning, and warm cooked meals. However, I would point out that I had gummi bears for dinner last night, book-learning has brought me nothing but sorrow, and (as I have previously mentioned) I hardly get to used the indoor plumbing around here anyways. I might as well be living with the wolves! Most importantly to my argument is the fact that if I were still living with wolves, I would not have to have an office job. Sure, I'd have responsibilities to the pack and would have to help out with the hunting. But among the wolves, I would still remain an exotic visitor, not a lowly secretary. I would not have to interrupt my work flow to "find the Jones file" or take seven telephone messages from the same client in three hours, for example. Wolves do not do this type of work.