Wednesday, February 19, 2003

Oh, I Wish I Were An Oscar Meyer Weiner!

I believe The Depression is upon me. There is no other possible explanation: I'm tired, and I feel like nobody loves me. See, I know for a fact that certain people do love me, like my Grandmother and Caroline and my other family and friends. But sometimes I get in this weepy "poor-me" mood and start dwelling on the fact that nobody is or ever has been in love with me.

Most of the time, that doesn't bother me. It's just one of those funny little things that are part of the Cosmic poker-hand I drew, like becoming an alcoholic or being born to poor people or having hairy toes. But when I'm Depressed, this little factoid causes me pain. I sit here wondering what's so defective about me, why am I unable to find some man to love who'll love me back, what am I doing wrong, and how do I do it right?

And from Echo came there answer none. I take some comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my loneliness, that thousands of online and offline matchmaking agencies, magazine articles galore, support groups and media exposés exist for and because of the legions of people like me, that the need to be loved is universal and the inability to find love is pandemic. But that comfort is definitely of the cold variety. I've never been of the belief that misery loves company... in fact, my misery likes to be left alone.

I don't know why I even bring this up right now, except that I felt the need to write, and this was the first topic that popped into my mind. I don't have anywhere to go with it, it's just one of those blurt-and-run kinds of things.

In other news, the whole world is going to Hell. But then, you probably already knew that.

Sometimes I consider ending a sentence with yo, but I always think better of it. However, I will often use the word scrilla for "money." In fact, it is almost always fun to use hip-hop slang words and phrases, especially if you speak them with a lugubrious academic intonation, savoring each consonant, with just a touch of Vincent Price Anglicism around the edges: "You would do well to refrain from getting all up in my grille, you skanky whore," or "Why are you stepping in my pudding without knowing the flavor?" or "I know you aren't talking smack about my baby-daddy...because, therefore, you realize I'd have to pimp-slap you upside your big ugly melon."

I just got the biggest rhinestone necklace in the world in today's mail. It's not really my usual style, but I fell in love with it when I saw it on eBay, and the price was right. It's my prize for not saying "Valentine's Day" even once during Valentine's Day. I'm thinking about wearing it to work tomorrow. But then, tomorrow is when my new boss comes in, and perhaps I should refrain from outlandishness until he's a little more accustomed to me. Besides, it's going to take me all day to make up and write down my job-duties for our first staff-meeting, so perhaps I should scale back on the distractions.

One of these days, I'm going to clean my room, get a haircut, lose weight, and get in the habit of praying, meditating, and drinking eight glasses of water a day. But not today. I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity and eating 50/50 bars today. Besides, it's getting late and I ought to be in bed, I have a big work-heavy day tomorrow and will be needing my rest. I hope your tomorrow is just one big long twenty-four-hour grin!

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