Saturday, March 26, 2005

So it has finally hit me. The frantic distraction of Story Week has ceased, no more days of readings and nights of round after round at the bar. No more schmoozing with VIPs and dancing until my feet bleed. I am left now to contemplate my sickness and my grim life situation.

Here is the living room: two couches, a dusty entertainment center with a tv, a VCR and a stack of tapes, mostly kid stuff nobody has watched in 10 years. A cabinet with my dead mom's nick-nacks, pretty rocks and chipped ceramic birds. Then there is a desk with my computer and printer. Oh yeah, and cardboard boxes of my posessions, mostly clothes and books overflowing onto every inch of the carpet. The walls have childhood pictures of me and my sisters dressed up and posed like dolls at the K-mart photo center.

On one end of the room, my dad has been drunkenly trying to put together my futon frame for about an hour. Kneeling on the floor, bewilderedly turning screws and causing crash sounds.

Earlier this evening, he drove my car to the store to get me some soup.

If I wasn't so delerious with fever, I would have built my own futon and got my own soup, of course.

Oh god I can't stand this. My dad and his girlfriend in the kitchen, now. Talking talking talking..about the lightswitch, the laundry, the car insurance. There is no door between the kitchen and living room. I must watch them kiss and smell their steak and hear them babble for as long as they are awake.

I can't stand this. PLEASE somebody take pity on me. I rarely beg for pity. I do not deserve pity, since my circumstance is my fault. But if anyone has a spare room, hell even a very large closet, I could pay around $300 a month, starting on the 1st..

My ex-room mates will read this and laugh.
Oh but you see, kids..the joke is on you. What you are doing now...well, that's what you'll do until you die. Slaving around in this cruel, boring suburb.

While I at least have some hope of higher enjoyment. To create something besides a mess.
But for now, yeah, things suck.

Too bad I'm too dysfunctional and kinky to have a steady boyfriend whose bed I could sleep in. =/
I know I am best in small doses. Too bad I can't take myself in small doses..

posted at 9:22 PM |