The past six months have been horrible. Black hole horrible. Life has sucked and I don’t hold out any hope for a lessening of the suckiness anytime soon.
October Birthday Horror is almost over and that’s a good thing I suppose. But it does mean that we’re closer to the Evil Season which, for the office anyway, is well underway by mid-November. So even if the Gods are smiling upon my little part of the Universe, there’s only a small two to three week window for any Good Times to be had. I won’t hold my breath.
Going to the ARIAs next weekend would’ve been a brightpoint only I’m not going am I? No, instead, I was offered tickets to another music awards do which I had to less-than-graciously decline because, frankly, I was afraid I might disturb proceedings with my snoring.
[Although, perhaps that would be a quick and not too painful way out of the suckiness. Maybe I should go.]
Oh poor me. Hoo.
No, really, things have been bad. I just can’t really talk about a lot of it. Suffice to say work and relationship, dog turds both. I know one is supposed to talk about all the juicy stuff on one’s blog but I’m a wuss. And I’m not 16 and whiney anymore. (Maybe just a little whiney) I’m thinking of going the professional way as some things have come up recently that I realise I should’ve dealt with a long time ago. They’re a festering I tells ya!
Here’s an example of my madness: I recently promised to send copies of (lurve) notes and letters that the girl Big cheated on me with had sent to him during their affair to a friend of mine so he could use them as inspiration for his poetry. What?! Am. I. Thinking?! Ignoring for a moment the question of why I have kept the stinking pieces of crap, why did I agree to do this? What sort of gore-mongering friends do I have that would ask me to do such a thing and expect me to go through with it? Run! Run from the crazee!
I write about doing this and I know that it’s bad for me and I shouldn’t. Then I think I will do it because it’s truly awful writing and great to have a good snicker over. But to do so I will have to hold it and read it and record it and put it out there, giving it more life than it deserves and that can’t be good. But snickering is so much fun! I want to but I don’t. I don’t want to but I can’t stop myself.
I suck.
Supermassive Black Hole - Muse