Oh That's Right...

I do have a blog! I could chalk it up to the Post Concussive Syndrome (PCS if I want to stay edgy and relevant) but the truth of the matter is... well, there's a lot of tequila in this world, and someone's got to drink it.

Alcoholic antics aside (hello, assonance!) life has been a big bundle of busy (hello, consonance!) and I haven't had much time since January to sit down, bang away at my keyboard, and hope that something semi-inspired appears. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, etc. etc. My delightful boyfriend suggested that I start actually writing in this thing again, and who am I to argue with the man that actually encourages my neuroses? So, as I eat my Ramen with a side of Slim Jims (you think I'm kidding?), it's time to hunker down and get some solid writing done. And what better way to do that than with a pointless list??

Things That Have Happened Since January: A Compendium of Things That Have Happened Since January to Chelsea and the World at Large

1. I got a new job! Gone are the days of getting punched in the head, held hostage in transport vehicles, and having to restrain myself from murdering someone. Or several someones. And the students, too.

2. I have Post Concussive Syndrome! Oh yes, as I am always on top of the newest fads and crazes, I thought it pertinent to grab the reigns on the bandwagon before everyone else started jumping on all willy nilly. It's been manageable for the most part, in regards to my daily activities, but the migraines, anxiety and PTSD regarding everysinglethingthateveryhappenedatmyoldjob are kind of a bummer. It's cool not to cry every day before work though, so there's chinning up for you.

3. Rue McClanahan, Dennis Hopper, and Gary Coleman died. Somewhere, a punchline died too.

4. Red #1 has a boyfriend. Told you guys I was gonna broadcast it for everyone to see!

5. Jazz is still alive! It's a miracle! I've been trying to get her groomed for the past month or so, as she has allergies and her eyes are disgusting and matting the fur around them, so that she stumbles blindly into walls and such (okay, that's not any different than normal, but still) and all I want is for someone who's not me (i.e. someone that won't stab her in the eye with the scissors) to cut her damn hair and wash her damn face. But! All of the groomers say she's too old, and that they won't do anything if she struggles. So there goes that. Next step: weed whacker!

6. I'm once again having a crisis, and wanting to run all over the world madly, until something inspires me to chill the fuck out, sit the fuck down, and start my life. But we all know that won't happen, so here's to madcap adventures. Next stop: Maine...!...? Well, it's a start. We're hitting up Maine for the 4th of July, so that's something to look forward to. Then there's Vegas in August for a friend's birthday extravaganza, Florida in March for THE HARRY POTTER THEME PARK, and desperately fitting in an LA trip when everyone's schedules coordinates. If this doesn't help with my wanderlust, I'm screwed.

So that about sums up all of the massively important World and Chelsea Events. If that's not scintillating news, then I just don't know what else is. Tune in next week when I forget that I posted, and write up the exact same thing for your enjoyment.

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.