The Obvious Child

I am a psychopath.

No. I’m not really. I’m just one of the many modern females that is easily distracted by her life, her computer, the many fine looking males (and females) around her, the parties, the music (oh the music!), and the schedule of her life.

Here’s the thing though. I’m afraid I’m going to cry at rehearsal tonight. Because I’ve figured out What is Wrong with me. What has been wrong and why I have been acting erratically and doing bizarre stuff that makes me go “huh?” It’s always a Defeat when I do this. And I should know better by now. I always don’t want to mention it either. Because this is when I NEED NEED NEED more cooperation and understanding and also when admission of the Sad Fact of what I am will send all informed parties screaming for the hills and/or hanging around in non-helpful helpful ways when they need to not be. At precisely the wrong times. Which no one knows how to do because it is impossible to read my mind. Doesn’t THAT suck?

I have a Guest sleeping in my … Poolhouse. Yeah. A visitor in the cabana. They’re drinking all my vodka and spilling stuff on the sofas again. Yuck.

Okay. VERY unfortunate metaphor. I’d erase it but … oh, wait… this is MY blog and I’m crying because I’m a GIRL!!!!

I’m not crying. Okay. I am. I’m doing this bizarre thing where I’m laugh/crying. I could use a beer. That’s the last thing I need. I’m drinking coffee. I want a diet coke. I enjoy aspertame. If you don’t like it, there’s the metaphorical door.

I really do want a cocktail.

…

Actually, time has elapsed, and I’m NOT crying. I’m actually Tweet-back-and-forthing with Chad and Randall. And it’s nice to have family around. Things are getting better around here locally. It was good to go to breakfast with my sister-in-law and it was good to come home to my people online who are also my people in life-life. It felt good.

Why it has not become glaringly obvious to me that I’m “getting there” when I’m this way is beyond me. Like I said, these days are full of distractions.

dumb, stupid corn

The human body cannot digest 75% of corn, Liz just said…

HAH!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!

JUSTIFIED!!!!!!

monday list time

1. don’t worry. I still do lists at other places. I’m ADDICTED to lists. I’m a frickkin ADDICT these days.
2. That’s why I’m going with my sister in law Liz-O (her whole nickname is “Delayed Reaction Liz-O” and she is the person along with the Proper Way of doing the “Whatever Monkey” signal.
3. I am learning more and more every day that I don’t get and can’t play well with the humans. I am a strange little dampandemotional swamp creature that needs to sit submerged in her bog and mellow out on her little creepy planet. I don’t like cold, robotic change. I don’t like politic. I don’t like weird rules. I DO like the routine of the seasons. I DO like to slither and hide under a rock.

Like I said, I hide the pretty things in the walls. I know… I sound like a troll. Of course, when *I* say troll, I’m thinking of fairy tales and bridges, and not creepy internet crap. I only just found out what a troll was in the last two months. Sheesh. I don’t “get” anything. It’s like I was born last century.

4. All is not lost, somehow though, for the dork within. Maybe someday I will tell you my story about me geeking out and Peter Mayhew at a certain … place. But not today. I won’t live it down, I’m afraid. I have a reputation. And secrets.
5. I am still proud of my Elfquest comic books. The will never be sold.
6. The meal is over, and I did NOT drink a diet soda. I’m gettin’ there people, I’m gettin’ there.

Impasse

It’s 4:30 in the morning. I have a sea of work in front of me that isn’t REALLY technically work. Deadlines that aren’t REALLY deadlines. A few gigs. Some fun equipment to learn. A house to clean. I’m sick. I’m tired. No biggie.

But I’m at an impasse, because All Is Not Well.

Because I’ve gotten bored. I’ve had a few knocks. A few failures. A few “mediocres” and not enough “Hell-yeahs.” Not enough crazy-wow-s. I need a HIT. Not just a REALLY good. But an undeniable hit.

I need another ‘Bluebeard.’ Or another ‘Cupcake.’ Or another ‘Emily.’ Or I need to spruce up ‘Stranded,’ and get it out there, because that was a good song.

But I do need to do something, and quick.

I’ve had several ideas. Directions I could go in. Things I could do. All the while things pile up around me. I look at the things. And I’ve been here before. And I realize that nothing is going to change and I will be this person for the rest of my life unless I become a person who inspires people.

In order to do that, I’m going to have to get more sleep, and clean my house, and make some lists. And I’m going to need to learn these organ patches so I won’t have a REAL reason to drink as much liquor as the Kings are probably going to feed me on Friday.

A Short Letter to My Macbook

Dear Knight in White Shiny Plastic Stuff:

I need you to work for me today please. That was a bitchin’ viola line I needed you to lay down just then. But you snapcracklepop like cereal. I’m tired of tweaking you, and adjusting you. I’m tired of the words buffer and engine and all that. I don’t want to parse through my sample ditching the wondrous bits of things that make you flow like sonic gelatin over a landscape of orgasmic delight (I don’t even know what that means).

I would like us to reach some level of understanding on this. Can ya WORK with me here? Can we make some beautiful music together? It’d be realreal SWELL!

Love,
RangerD