Of Writing, Ranting, and Gimpy Dogs

Everyday when I come home from work I say to myself, "I'm going to sit down, write a blog entry, and then start writing my first book!" And then I get into the wine, and all I end up producing are dirty doodles and a few Mrs. Jensen Ackles in hearts, and really, that's not doing anything for anybody. 

I have all the ammunition I need for my big bang onto the literary scene (and/or the illustrious blogger scene) but I'm having such a hard time stringing more than two words together lately that I end up throwing my notebook in frustration and wondering if I'll ever be able to write again. Blog entries come much more easily, but even then my posts are few and far between. I think part of it is attempting to adjust to working days right now; I'm not meant to wake up before 7am, it's just a fact of life. And being at a job where I can't stumble in at 9am hungover and in sweatpants, spending my time dishing about gossip with the girls, really takes a toll. Being "an adult" just doesn't work for me.

It also doesn't help that my life is one gigantic question mark right now. I don't particularly miss the city of LA, but I miss my friends so much that I think I left a part of my heart there. I love Boston and I love being back in a real city, but I don't know if this is the place for me to grow. I miss New York but I have no money. Ah, life's quandaries. 

With my friends all over the world, so far apart from each other, I feel a bit alone and uncertain as to where to go from here. My mom has been my absolute rock since my return from LA, and I know that if I didn't have her, I'd be completely lost. She's been encouraging me to write, for a variety of reasons: it's what I love doing, it makes me think and grow, it's part of who I am. And, if successful, it's the kind of career that will not only enable me to do what I really love doing, but would be able to finance the kind of life where I can travel and see the people I love and take full advantage of life.

Ah, but I'm losing my loyal audience, I think. Too much whining, not enough funny. To lighten the mood, I'm watching 'Whose Wedding is it Anyway?' and this hot young blond chick is marrying a super old geezer and every time she so much as looks too directly at him it looks like she might break a rib or quite possibly kill him. The bliss of romance.

I've decided that I need someone to buy me a huge gaudy engagement ring, throw me a massive wedding, take me on an incredible honeymoon, then agree to a swift annullment. You don't even have to do me - I'm not too picky. I just want to wear a pretty dress, get married on a beach without wearing shows, flaunt my ring to jealous bitches, and the never have to worry about sharing my life, time, uterus and money with someone. I think that's a pretty good deal. 

The rich only need apply.

Also, for your little feel good takeaway of the day: Jazz has realized that if she limps I feel bad for her and give her treats, so she spent the better part of this evening limping around in circles on three paws, falling over herself and into the walls, before she gave up and started walking normally again. I suppose an old dog can learn new tricks. Kind of.