Quote of the day: I’m too lazy to find one today. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something pithy to put up here.
Song of the day: “Pushit” by Tool
Date: January 7, 2008 (1+7=8)
“I hate my life. I hate my job.” Those where the first two thoughts I had this morning upon waking. It’s a kind of unconscious litany that I can usually push away into the recesses of my mind so I can get on with the day without hurting someone. However, at this time of year, the litany gets louder. Over and over and over again, it rolls around my brain, a thought satellite and I am it’s planet. Not sure if it’s the weather or the “New Year!” and all of the resolving and resolutioning that goes on. None of which I completely understand. I mean, Jan. 1st is just an arbitrary date. Why should one be thinking of the direction of their life any more on that day than any other? Besides, wouldn’t the Winter Solstice be a more logical choice as an end date for the year? Actually… the Winter Solstice should be the middle of the year. The nadir. The Summer Solstice should be the mark of a new year. Shouldn’t a year begin and end on a high note? Weeks do. They begin and end on Sunday. It’s a day off for most folks. Wednesday is in the middle of the week and Wednesday sucks. Would anyone really want to start a new week on a Wednesday? I wouldn’t. So why do we start a new year at the dreariest point? (BTW, I also think we should have 13 months in our calendar and figure out a way to split up the day using units that are divisible by 10. But… that’s another post.)
I should mention that I’m not a morning person and as a result the snooze button gets a lot of use. As per my usual custom, I wake up, regret it, and try to get 9 more minutes of unconscious bliss. It almost never works. So what’s a girl to do? Turn to fantastical thoughts to stave of reality for just a little while longer of course! Rather than just get my lazy ass out of bed, since sleep has abandoned me, I instead turn inward for a little while and contemplate what I could do to make my life not suck- but with a twist. Do I ask What Would Jesus Do? Well… I could, but unlike him I don’t have the ability to turn water into wine and drown my sorrows-which is totally what I would do if I had that nifty power. How about What Would John Crichton Do? Also not an option. He’d create a wormhole weapon and destroy the universe. Tempting, but no thanks. (Let’s call that Plan B.) So then I think to myself, What Would Malcolm Reynolds Do? Hmmm… Malcolm Reynolds. He’s got the right idea. He bought himself a ship and ran off into the black, leaving behind “civilization” and all of its problems. It’s nothing but a verse full of paperwork, overcrowding, and arbitrary rules anyhow! Ahh… if only! The idea tickles me greatly. But then I remember that Mal and his crew were always living hand to mouth. That he is still responsible for putting food on the table, gas in the ship, keeping his crew healthy, (which in that ‘verse “healthy” pretty much just meant “alive”) and in order to do so has to take whatever crappy job he can get. Usually jobs he hates. Plus, he does it without whining about it. I imagine him getting out of bed every day… (naked. Hey. It’s my fantasy. Shut up.) … and getting on with the day, and he does it stoically too. Which makes me feel pretty much useless and lazy. Then I think to myself, “Fuck you, Malcolm Reynolds.”
At this point, my nine minutes of snooze are up, I have to roll over to smack the button again, and after a moment more I think, “Well, What Would Buffy Do?”