2003-10-02 - 4:22 p.m.
I feel like a jammed toaster - all burnt out. I'm ten single-spaced, ten-point sans-serif font pages into my writing. I'm made of corn: call me mush. I'm not capable of making any more decisions today, writerly or otherwise. That doesn't exactly bode well for the date, does it?
Dating is funny. It's like trying to sell a used car. Sure, the car's dinged up. Sure, it doesn't run as well as it used to; it's 29, for god's sake! Can you live with buying new floormats because the old ones were muddied by an old flame? Will you be able to accept that your mileage might be low; that the engine might conk out one night; that it simply isn't shiny and pretty and brand-new?
See, this is why I blog. It's so that I don't walk into the restaurant tonight and ask Geologist (hey, we have a new pseud!) if he thinks my tires need to be realigned.
Dating is also weird because different people appeal to you in different ways. Out of the five guys last weekend, I'm seeing two again. Scratcher is a former bookstore manager; his music collection rivals my own, and he knows literature up and down. He's made sacrifices to be with his son, and he works two jobs to avoid the M-F 8-5 game. He knows my friends, he knows my bad habits, and I know his. Geologist is another story. He loves his job consulting. He's geeky and shy. He ballroom and swing dances; he cycles. The energy could not be more different. Why do I like both these men? And how the fricking frack am I going to keep all this straight? The internet dating game is still kinda new to me; I found myself writing an email to a "Jeff" today and realized I didn't know which Jeff he was. There are three emailing me right now. That's not boasting - that's just weird coincidence. Maybe I should use my diminishing database management skills to set up a set of queries that would let me determine who's who and which ones to keep around. Or I could act like a normal human being and just go on the dates. Gaaaaaaah!
Exercise. Exercise will fix this, right?
2003-10-02 - 2:40 p.m.
I'm taking a break from writing down every eentsy detail about how to do payroll for the entire freakin' campus to visit y'all. And of course, to romp in the glory that was last night's win over the Botox Sox. Erm, I mean the BoSox. The Red Sox. Whatever. Even now my A's are kicking some Boston booty, up 5-1 in the fifth.
Life is good, except for this overwhelming compulsion to run through the office halls yelling, "I don't care when you want it! I don't care, I don't care!" Wait, wait...ahh, there's the medication kicking in. Much better.
I've called in the troops to help out with tomorrow's dinner. This huge work assignment has to be finished for tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be here late and then go straight to dinner with the geologist. There won't be much time before getting together tomorrow, either. Yikes! How am I going to get all this done? I think it's going to be like all-nighters used to be in college - you just take a couple of No-Doz, get all giggly and push through. Except this time I'll be wielding a chef's knife instead of clattering away at the keyboard. Hm, do sharp objects and caffeine pills really go together?
This weekend I have to buy a new digital camera. The mitered square bag is almost finished, and I'd like to be able to show y'all the finishing steps (weaving in ends, sewing together, felting). Any recommendations would be much appreciated.
Go A's! Go Giants!
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