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Since my friend suggested writing for 100 words a few weeks ago, I have contemplated almost daily what my first entry would say. I finally determined the most important aspect is for me to write for ME, to ignore the web audience, to make each entry the small slice of my life I will want to remember and reflect on later. Right now, I have no concept of what 100 words looks like, but I hope I can learn that after a few entries. So what do I want to remember about today? That I have grand hopes for 2003.
Tonight my brain doesn't seem to work. I am extremely tired. I am tired regularly, however – I am afraid one of my 100 word entries will consist of "I am so tired" over and over 25 times. I need more sleep than I let myself get. Why do I stay up so late doing inane activities like web surfing or playing games or other useless activities? Sleep always seems more important in the morning than at night. Except tonight, it seems really important….But does that mean I will actually drag my weary bones to bed soon? Sadly, I don't know.
Things I love: My husband who just spent an evening with my dad and uncles and enjoyed it. My laptop because I can surf or write or play games in my bed. My cat who follows me around for attention and purrs like a motorboat. Christmas for many reasons – I especially love Christmas trees, and I am sad that I need to take ours down this weekend. Friends with whom I can spend two hours on the phone just babbling away or emailing back and forth all afternoon. And, Saturdays on which I don't have to set my alarm clock.
I am writing today in the afternoon, not at night. It feels a little strange. I didn't want to wait until after we get home from Holiday Embrace tonight, at 2 or 3 in the morning, possibly. That entry would be my typical "damn, I'm tired" piece, and we don't need that. For once, right now, I am NOT tired. I guess that's what happens when you sleep until noon. I didn't get as much done today as I wanted, but I did get some things done, so I'm not beating myself up over it. I hope tonight is fun.
A blank screen. A goal of one hundred words. Hopefully something interesting flows from the brain through the fingers between the nothingness and the goal. Is it too "meta" to discuss the actual art of writing the 100 words? This is only the fifth day – am I already losing the steam to keep the entries fresh? I feel like my brain isn't even involved today, my hands just hit some keys and pretty black letters appear. I am sure I am trying too hard; I make everything more complicated than is necessary. My brain is blank. My fingers are finished.
My husband has suddenly decided he is ready to have a child, as early as sometime in 2003. He once told me I would have to want a child for two weeks straight before he would agree to it, but that theory seems out the window for him now. I am currently in my "I don't want a kid right now" period, but that will probably change soon. People say you are never truly ready for a baby, but still, I want my mental state to be improved first. My single friends who ache for a baby just don't understand.
My sister's boyfriend is going to move in with her soon. She asks me for advice for telling our parents. Good luck, I say. I think Mom halfway expects that news. I worry - her apartment is small, obviously made for one, will they be in each other's way? I think it's a good idea; they have lived a hundred miles apart for many years, but will they be too close now? He didn't want her to call everyday; hopefully he's willing to see her everyday. I tell her to expect an adjustment period. Sigh. I hope it goes OK.
The sky was so clear tonight. The city looked amazing as I drove home from dinner. I wish I hadn't been driving so I could marvel at the tall buildings like I did when I was little. It's always nerve-wracking to drive on the Dan Ryan, 14 lanes across with a train down the middle. How many times have I ridden down that expressway? More than I could begin to count. I learned today I could see the Sears Tower from my desk. 20-some miles away, fuzzy, but it was there. I swear that building will never stop thrilling me.
For a long time, I didn't think of myself as creative. I am a technical writer, for goodness sake. I find creative writing very difficult, and I don't think well "outside the box". I can't draw or paint or knit. But my sister got me into creating scrapbooks, and I love it, and I am good at it. Some pages are not as creative as others – I definitely hit a wall after three hours straight – but others I am very proud of. I enjoy documenting my life through pictures and including stamps and pretty papers just adds to the fun.
I am between "not well" and "actually sick". I have a sore throat and cough, but I'm not crawling into bed right now. This in-between is the worst – not feeling well enough to want to do anything but not feeling sick enough to justify canceling everything. I will know soon enough how sick I am. The in-between will leave, or bronchitis will hit me swiftly and hard. By Sunday I will either be fine or have been to Urgent Care for a chest x-ray and antibiotics. Normally I wouldn't worry, but a cough doesn't bode well. My poor weak lungs.
When I am sick, that's all my poor brain can comprehend. Still not sure if I have anything more serious than a cold, but even just a cold is bad enough. I took daytime cold medicine, and I feel worse when it wears off than if I hadn't taken it at all. I didn't go to the basketball game, and I may skip the movie tomorrow. I suppose I should sleep soon. Blah blah, sick, cold, cough, headache. I seriously have nothing interesting to say. I'm a big ball of snot. I stare at the walls and drool a lot.
Add a fever to my repertoire. Plus, a slight migraine hasn't helped either. Ugh. I hate this. I barely had enough energy to stand up to take a shower. I can't see that I will make it to work tomorrow. I barely want to drive to Tinley Park to the doctor, how can I drive to Schaumburg for work? Anyway, today I watched "I Love the 80s" on VH1, one hour for each year of the 80s. A walk through my childhood. It was rather amusing, but a bit overwhelming to watch that many hours about the 80s at once.
I'm here. Still sick. Didn't go to work today. Feel like the past three days were completely wasted by lying prone. End is in sight, got pretty blue and pink drugs from the doctor to kill those bad germs. That's a good thing; I think everyone is about ready to shoot themselves or me for reading this many entries in a row about my malady. Imagine if it was something really serious! I'd bore myself to death. Unfortunately, due to the icky sicky, there's not another damn thing to report. Will return to the regularly scheduled program tomorrow, I promise.
Yuck. Tonight didn't go as it should have. Jason and I fought over something stupid I did. Sometimes I can be a selfish bitch. I wish I wasn't. I wish I was "cool" like I used to be, but for some reason I am raw around the edges, crabby, in the evenings. I am sure I don't sleep enough, but it's hard to go to bed by 10:30 when you are barely home at 7:00. I need to change somehow, so I like myself more, so my self-esteem is better, and I treat myself better. I just don't know how.
I really want to go up to bed and read for a while, but it's almost midnight. I haven't read a book since September, and I hate it. I love to read, and I miss it. When I'm home, I'm always doing something instead of reading, and usually that something is actually wasting time on the computer. I'm afraid to start reading though, because when I start a book, nothing else matters, and I can't afford to ignore my responsibilities or lose even more sleep. I've got to work on the time management and fit some reading time into it.
My kitty's name is Wembley, named after a fraggle on Fraggle Rock. She will be eight in April. She is mostly gray with stripes, but her belly is yellow. She has a very long tail. She purrs a lot, loudly. She also talks to us a lot, loudly. She loves to sit on laps, but only when she feels like it. Some of her favorite things include canned cat food, drinking water from the bathroom sick, chasing the laser pointer light, and sleeping on people. She is the only pet I have ever owned, and I love her very much.
I turned off the computer and forgot to do my 100 words, but I remembered just in time, and here I am. Why does it seem the longer I do this, the harder it is remember to do it? It's been another long week. Here's another good question – why do the weeks when I actually have a day off for holiday or illness seem to go by so much longer than the weeks I work all five days? It's one of those life mysteries I will never understand. I'm finally starting to feel tired, and look – it's only 2:22 AM!
I just stayed up way too late playing The Sims. Funny how I can tell the little characters in the game to go to bed when I don't do it myself. I like this game – I think it's funny. Today the Lady Sim set the house on fire twice, including setting the Man Sim on fire, but she bargained with Death so Man Sim didn't die. Kind of funny since they don't get along so well lately, and Man Sim is sort of seeing someone on the side – well, he was until I made him have to go to work.
I am totally exhausted. I don't understand why sleeping seven hours starting at 5 AM makes me feel more tired than if I sleep for seven hours starting at 11 PM – it is still seven hours. I don't know – I can't sleep when the sun is up? Anyway, I had a great weekend. I always like a mix between productivity and relaxation, which did happen the last two days. I actually bought groceries, ran the dishwasher, put stuff in the crawl space, made lunch AND dinner. So domestic! See what happens when I actually stay home once in a while?
The second best Christmas present I've received was from Jason the first Christmas we were dating. It was a stuffed bunny wearing a bunny necklace. The best Christmas present I ever received was in 2002, when my parents got us a dishwasher. Washing dishes is one of my most hated household chores, right up there with ironing. They paid for the cabinets to be cut, ordered the dishwasher, and Dad installed it. So now as I sit here typing, my dishes are getting clean. Without me! I love it. How and why did I go three years without a dishwasher?
I am a migraineur. Do you know that word? I didn't, but thanks to the internet for the lesson. I suffer from migraines; I have a doozie right now. They appear sporadically, but almost always on Tuesday of the same week of the month. The medicine didn't help enough. It might not go away until Thursday. I can't bear that. There is no cure for migraines and I don't think this is preventable – what can you do when your headache triggers are your own hormones? This should stop when I am pregnant – now there's a reason to have a baby!
My headache is so much worse tonight. I want to cry, but that makes it worse. I want macaroni and cheese for comfort, but I can't stand long enough to make it. I'm going straight to bed when I get home. One website displays pictures that kids with headaches drew. I would start my picture by grasping a black crayon in my fist and fiercely move the crayon across the page to make the boldest, blackest zigzags I could. It would reflect the anger, the pain, the despair I feel. Is it fair I have a headache for 48 hours?
Another couple we know is expecting a baby. A friend emailed: "Everyone's doing it. It's your turn now." (His baby was born in October.) That bothers me. I don't know why. I'm surprised it bothered me; I know he meant it as a joke. Maybe because I'm not in a joking mood during a migraine? OK, I do know why – I am very conflicted about having a baby and those kinds of comments don't help. I don't want to have a baby because all our friends are. Sometimes I don't want a baby ever. And that's really what bothers me.
I signed up for Weight Watchers. It starts next week, so the next few days will mean wanting to be good but not really needing to be. People say I don't need to lose weight, but they aren't inside my body. They don't know some of my clothes don't fit, my thighs rub together, how I hate hearing the scale chunk-chunk up to the next 50 pound setting. I don't have to lose A LOT of weight, but I have to lose some, and I guess I appreciate people don't think I am too big, but I AM too big.
I need to stop writing in the wee morning hours. My brain is just too fried after playing hours of The Sims. Today was all about Home Interiors, lots of laundry, and eating out. Tomorrow is the Super Bowl, so we will be out most of the day. I have to remember to pay bills, run to the grocery store, and pick up my prescriptions. Now Wembley wants attention, I need to fold another load of laundry, and head to bed. And there is my exciting life. It seems this all I am capable of writing at 1:35 AM. Sorry.
It snowed last night. I love snow. We haven't gotten much this winter. Maybe it has been too cold? (Right now it is 1 degree.) We only had to shovel on Christmas Eve – yes, a white Christmas, I loved it. I love standing out as it is snowing. Everything is peaceful, quiet, still. It snowed the night of our wedding, and I danced in it in my dress. It snowed for Derek's wedding too. Because of that, I would have been brokenhearted if it hadn't snowed on mine. But four years would have passed before I would have realized it.
Once upon a time, at a university far, far away lived a freshman girl. This girl's school had given her a unix login, but this being the early 1990's, she had no idea what to do with it. Her friends convinced her to log in, and she soon lamented she had no irc nick. Lo and behold, her friend dubbed her "foofoo", as in The Little Bunny. And so she played on irc as foofoo, and thus her username was born. And thus her addiction to the internet also began, and has lasted lo these past ten years. The End.
Work is getting to me. I don't like to complain about work to people outside of work, but sometimes I can't help it. I have mixed feelings about my current assignment. I love most of the people there (all of the BAs are cool) but the politics are getting me down. Events have conspired against me to make me look incompetent. I'm sure they regret hiring me. And it's not my fault – too many things have changed, new managers have been hired, and the old managers don't like them. At least I can leave. And that's the beauty of consulting.
Tivo rocks my world. I am so glad we got it. I know I'd like it, but I didn't realize I would like it this much. I like the ease of recording, which is terribly convenient with my current obsession with reality shows. But I LOVE the ability to pause and rewind live TV. I'd like another one, but as far as I can tell, they only sell them with mega amounts of memory for many hundreds of dollars that I would rather spend on other things right now. Because really, I don't NEED another Tivo. But I want one!
I realized this morning that my husband and I haven't come straight home from work on the same nights in at least two weeks. I have been home Mondays and Wednesdays, and those nights he has been busy. So that is why we found ourselves talking in bed last night until 2 AM. He was pumped up on caffeine and sugar, so it was interesting. He likes to tickle me, which annoys me, but I do enjoy the attention. I guess I need to head to bed soon to fall asleep before he comes up and keeps me awake again.
The first movie I saw in a theater: Pete's Dragon. My first paid job: ice cream store, where I lasted one week. My first date: Shawn, Homecoming 1987. My first kiss: Jim, Dec. 1991. My first serious boyfriend: Jason, beginning in Oct. 1992. My first apartment: 709 Green St. with four other girls. My first pets: Abigail and Zachary, goldfish. My first roommate: Teresa. My first CD: Hits by REO Speedwagon. My first live concert: Richard Marx, 1996. My first email address: email@example.com. My first Agatha Christie novel: Murder on the Orient Express. My first diary entry: March 23, 1985.
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