Nothing to Say?

Well, perhaps i will not be the obsessive blogger that i anticipated myself to be. Perhaps the fringe effects of my (undiagnosed, and hardly problematic) OCD are minimal in this case. Or, perhaps, i have been too busy dealing with the aftereffects of car vandalism to have time to be obsessed with anything. Between replacing the window, then the tint, then stalking the local pawn shops in order to arrange my own personal sting operation, this has been quite a busy week. Add to that a (stupid) holiday and a request from my sort-of mother-in-law to decorate her house for Christmas followed by a 60 hour work week, and i suddenly find myself back in front of this screen, tired, and with nothing to say. Fascinating. i can't remember too many times in my life that i have truly been in this situation. i can't think of a damn thing to write about that might be even remotely interesting. Actually, interesting isn't even a consideration, i really only write about things that i feel strongly about in some way. If i feel better after i am done, mission accomplished. Another consideration: i don't know who is going to find out that this blog exists, so i have to be very careful about whom and what i write.

it was nearly a year ago that i wrote the above entry and apparently i saved it as a draft. i have no memory of this and in fact, had forgotten entirely about this blog until my friend sara sent me an email asking me why i stopped doing it. so i guess, at least for today, i am back.

Dashed Again

Well, my reluctantly maintained, minimal faith in the basic goodness of humanity has once again been dashed. The very night that i started this blog, indeed at the very time that i was creating my first ever blog post, some jack-slap little bastard broke into my car. Granted, i don't know the person who did it, i have never met him/her, but my limited experience with the individual suggests to me that this nomenclature is not too harsh and is probably more than appropriate. Yes, my little den of privacy on wheels was violated in a most unnecessary way. As i prepared to return home after a long day, i arrive at my precious red beauty and what?!?! what is this!?!?! a shattered passenger window greets me and introduces me to the shuffled mess of what appears to be the contents of my glove box, lying there defenselessly wearing the stain of a stranger's touch. Damn it! DAMN IT!!! Why, why, why do people do this? Is it unclear to some that items inside one's automobile do tend to belong to the owner of said auto? Are we confused about the level of privacy and ownership that is expected regarding these things? Do the closed windows and locked doors not indicate strongly enough that only those with a key are welcome to browse this tiny region of the universe? And here's the kicker...i am about as poor as one could be. If, in fact, it is true, as Arctic Cat, Polaris and the others suggest, that s/he who dies with the most toys wins, i was a born loser. i have nothing. Nothing. And that is essentially what was in my car. So what do these loathesome creatures do when there is no fancy stereo system or radar detector to pawn, they take those items which can only have value to the owner of the car which they are so grotesquely invading. Bastards took my CD case. Mostly full of CD's that the love of my life made for me. CD's that only the two of us really care about. So now i am a very angry woman. Angrier even than i was before, and it is kind of a constant state for me. Particularly since November 2, but don't even get me started on that... i don't quite know what to do with my rage. i am not even close to being ready to let it go and accept that this happened. i want to stop people in public and give them random quizzes: "This coat i am wearing...Mine? or just anyone's?" "The money in that cash register...Belongs to the store? or free for the taking?" What is wrong with people? i just get so angry! And so often people take the most ridiculous things! Once when i was in high school a girl i knew stole my glasses. My prescription eyeglasses? What the F is that!?!? What in the name of goodness was she going to do with them? i actually know the answer to this one....she wore them. True story. Not the brightest girl who ever lived. i saw her every day because we were in classes and sports together. One day after i "misplaced" my glasses, i saw her wearing them. This is the kind of thing that one cannot even confront. To do so would have made me look insane. This is a case where the crime is so ridiculous one is protected from justice by common sense. "You stole my prescription glasses and now you are wearing them!" Anyone in their right mind (and that isn't even a required qualification) would respond, "That's crazy! Who would steal prescription glasses?" Suddenly i, the clear victim here, would appear strange and paranoid while this sick twist gets new glasses and has the socially approved freedom to flaunt her theft right in front of me. i hope she got a very bad headache. The glasses looked stupid on her anyway, they were much more suited for my face shape. i wonder where that bitch was on Monday night...

It May Be Another Phase

i start things. i find something that seems interesting, and i simply must be a part of it. i need a constant supply of fresh, novel ideas and activities. i have always been this way. And i get REALLY into things. i seem to think that i will be the person who will do the new thing more enthusiastically and intentionally than every other participant. i recently moved dozens of boxes of my former endeavors out of my childhood home. Not much of a "finisher", i guess. i am not even a "continuer". This blog thing was introduced to me by Sara, who was my best friend and virtual sister throughout my childhood. We don't have much contact, but at our most recent incidental reunion a few weeks ago, i guess she saw in me the kind of attention-seeking, self-centered egomaniac who thrives on things like this. She is right, no doubt. And i know that i will get REALLY into it for a while. In fact, i will be such a terrific blogger that i will probably eventually consider quitting one of my jobs and investing (someone else's) money in a new computer and a faster connection and a scanner that does everything but sing and dance and a new keyboard like the one i used to have at work that didn't make my wrists hurt and a new computer station, just because, and.... This could go very very badly. This might be a very bad idea. But it seems like so much fun. i get to write stuff and assume that other people are going to read it. People i don't even know. People who can never say, "Shelly, that is SO not how that happened!" This is going to be a beautiful thing. But it is probably just a phase.