Ummm, hi. I'm back. Miss me? I thought not. I never even got off to a good start, and here it is, 3 months and I haven't written anything, but you know...things have been a little crazy, a little weird, a little hectic, and a little bit boring, all slammed together into the blender and set to frappe. Long story short, I was gone, and I have returned.
It's weird, because even now, I look at the things I have done over the last few days, or months, or years, or my whole friggin life, and I ask myself, "Self," (because that is what I call myself when I talk to myself), I say, " Self, what have you ever done that is worth writing down? When was the last time you did something epic, something heroic, something crazy?" Sadly, the answer is not lately. I don't know, sometimes I feel like I am sitting on the couch at the party with all the cool kids, and any second they will realize that one of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong, and then there will be a needle-slide-across-record sound and I will somehow have made a complete jackass of myself and have to run out the door dodging insults and rotting vegetables.
Even here, I look at all of you, the great SG Army, so unique and proud and wonderful and so damn fucking interesting, and I cower in the back of the ranks hoping no one calls me out. "Hey, you in the back! You're not cool or hip or counter- or anti- or psuedo- or -an or -ian or -ist or even fucking -ish for that matter.... go the fuck home, no one wants you here..." OH FUCK, HOW DO YOU SCREAM AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS IN A JOURNAL?!?!?!?!
<takes smoke break and chills the fuck out>
OK, so... ummm, now that the urge to vent is satiated, did anyone make Vegoose? Damn fine time, I must say. Details will follow in a later post, since between my little rant and a 6 day underway for sea trials, I am spent. I am now going to crawl into my spiffy new queen size bed and pass out for a day or two, or 5 hours, since I have duty tomorrow. Whichever comes first. If I keep repeating it, it must be true: I love my job, I love my job, I love my....
It's weird, because even now, I look at the things I have done over the last few days, or months, or years, or my whole friggin life, and I ask myself, "Self," (because that is what I call myself when I talk to myself), I say, " Self, what have you ever done that is worth writing down? When was the last time you did something epic, something heroic, something crazy?" Sadly, the answer is not lately. I don't know, sometimes I feel like I am sitting on the couch at the party with all the cool kids, and any second they will realize that one of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong, and then there will be a needle-slide-across-record sound and I will somehow have made a complete jackass of myself and have to run out the door dodging insults and rotting vegetables.
Even here, I look at all of you, the great SG Army, so unique and proud and wonderful and so damn fucking interesting, and I cower in the back of the ranks hoping no one calls me out. "Hey, you in the back! You're not cool or hip or counter- or anti- or psuedo- or -an or -ian or -ist or even fucking -ish for that matter.... go the fuck home, no one wants you here..." OH FUCK, HOW DO YOU SCREAM AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS IN A JOURNAL?!?!?!?!
<takes smoke break and chills the fuck out>
OK, so... ummm, now that the urge to vent is satiated, did anyone make Vegoose? Damn fine time, I must say. Details will follow in a later post, since between my little rant and a 6 day underway for sea trials, I am spent. I am now going to crawl into my spiffy new queen size bed and pass out for a day or two, or 5 hours, since I have duty tomorrow. Whichever comes first. If I keep repeating it, it must be true: I love my job, I love my job, I love my....
jonna:
Nono...trust me, I too deal with the bullshit you do. Every day for the past 3 years. 3 more to go.