Mondays aren't for sissies...

Stupid Blogger.  
All I wanted to do was POST.
And would it let me?
No.
I’ve been scorned, shunned—sidelined.
Blogger is off pouting in a corner somewhere, refusing to take my calls.
Well, it can lick my ass.
(and no, don’t bother asking: YOU can’t.)
I, rather belatedly, remembered that I could just use Word to write (and post) this.
So here I am.
Can you see me?
I’m in Word.
I know—it looks different in here, doesn’t it?
More spacious, and yet, somehow more confining.

Anyway.

I think it was a good weekend.
And I think I’ll soothe my aching soul by spending money.
It works pretty well, actually, so don’t FUCKING knock it.
If it’s not that, it’s food, and t-rust me, I’m ok in the non-starvation department.
I could probably live for a month on just water,
And lord oh lord, don’t I wish I had the balls to try!!
It’s ok.
I’m still beautiful.
Ha. Saying that felt like soda coming out of my nose.

I want to get in my car and drive east.
Or north.
I have bits and pieces coming together for a book idea…
And some great advice from a dear blogger: don’t try so hard, just let it flow.
Thanks, sweet thing.
I wish…
I wish that my husband trusted me.
So that I could pack up the car and take the kids on a crazy cross-country journey,
And spend the summer nestled in the forest of Maine writing and writing and listening to the leaves and wind harmonizing together to shush my frayed nerves.
I wish I could take a summer vacation from life.
Or even just a couple of weeks.
To be alone and solitary in the world.
Just me and my thoughts.
Just me and my muse.
Just me and my…passions, which is probably why Mr. doesn’t like the idea of me being alone.
I would never, and he should know that by now.
Whatever.
I want to climb to the top of the highest mountain in the Wasatch range and let my lungs purge me of all that is black or heavy or roughly textured.

Busy week ahead.
Busy week behind…
Most of you would look at my planner and scoff at how lightly filled my schedule is.
But it feels busy for someone who’s used to miles and miles of emptiness in all directions.
Good busy, though.
Just.
Busy.
And hoping to look under a rock sometime and find…
Find…
The requisite self-control to start,
Fill out,
And
Finish
That oft-discussed novel.
Eh.
I will.
She’s right.
No more tryyyyyyyying.
Just do.

I dreamed last night of a September 11th sequel…
It was pretty horrific.
Standing on the Jersey shore and watching plane after plane after plane after plane
Fly into buildings.
I blame Will Smith(erenes)….
Because we watched “I, Robot” before bed.
No, before sex.
We watched something else before bed.
I wasn’t in the mood, but I should have been.
I was sullen and scatter-thoughted.
Couldn’t focus.
Sick of being sick of being alone.
Get over it already.
Hm. Maybe I will.
It’s life.
I want too much.
I expect too much.
I need too much.
I used to give too much…do I still?

What a chalk-dust and moth post this is!!

I must leave for the gym five minutes ago, so that I don’t risk losing my kids’ slot in the daycare.
Fuckity forkful of faaaaack.

I am going to have a good day.
Selfish little girl…