Blech.

I am back in my normal modus operandi. That is, apathetic dissatisfied mode of feeling. Now why is that?! Well the whole Fuzz thing has me uber paranoid and is making me not want to *ever* do *anything* of a remotely personal or writing nature on my work computer (I'm pretty sure my bosses don't care if I take that 10 minutes, after all the lunches I've skipped, but I haven't exactly asked them). Which in turn makes me a bit resentful (well, I'll show them, I'll just go on back in my cozy comfy little shell and won't everyone miss me then... yeah right).

And, I guess that New Year's gets me thinking about all the things I start and never finish. Last year it was Spanish classes (3 classes later, Yo No Hablo Nada). And horseback riding lessons. Yeah, well they did stick me with an 11 year old instructor and her tired horse, and the horse would only turn and walk directly toward the 11 year old every time the 11 year old spoke to instruct me whenever I'd be trying to ride (her horse!). Blech. Reasons? or Excuses? Does it matter?

How does one come by a true hobby anyway? I think you have to have a passion for something first. Somehow, in some way, I was born with no passion. Apathy is my specialty. I hate myself for it.

I've been doing a lot of that lately, at least today. Hating myself, that is.

Have you ever been working on something for a while, and you think you're doing really well at it, boy you're going to be successful, everything is going great, and then suddenly something (or many things) happen and you realize you've screwed a bunch of things up? Yeah, that was today. Nothing major, but lots of minor things. And I hate it. I don't tolerate mistakes well from others (I do tolerate them), I don't tolerate mistakes at all from myself. I feel like a major f*up today.

And I'm old. Further away from hip every single day. Any chance I had at being edgy passed me by back in about '85. I wanted to be edgy. But KIR baby, I see it now. At my age and being who I am... any pathetic attempt I may make at edgy, really just comes off as just damn sad. I'm going to be 36 years old in 17 days, and damn it, I'm just not getting any better, I'm stagnating and rotting into the nasty shallow bitter shell that my mother was when she finally left this world. And, I don't know what to do about it.

Yep, that's about it.

Waah waah wahh.

Yeah, I know. Cry me a river.


Happy new year all you new leaf happy damn people.

Yeah. PMS. Gotta love it.

Stay tuned.... The optimistic happy C-rella programming may or may not be back after these messages.

In the meantime.... I prefer not to spew my negativity all over my page... You may not hear from me for a bit... I will go dark until ready to resume regularly scheduled programming.


Maybe its time to break out the Secret Weapon (the infamous snowman underwear).
Or fuzzy frog socks (gotta get some of those, boy howdy!).