I have debated as to whether I should play the catch-up game, or should I just launch into whatever topic I'm obsessing over at the moment. So, here's a little of both:
I spend hours upon hours perfecting my role as an armchair expert. My range of interests is broad and varied. Like, embarrassingly so. Missing children, secret societies, Nazi war criminals, what it must've been like to be gay and dying from AIDS in the mid 1980's, celebrity secrets, abortion rights, religious rights, how to convert to Judaism, how to go back to school and finish my degree, how to open a coffeehouse, the Lindberg baby, how to lance a boil, how to thread a sewing machine... You get the idea? Well, this is what I've been doing with myself. Read a little, research a little, watch a little tv/movies. Work my ass off, eat, sleep, repeat. Nothing too major has happened. It's the same shit that happens in all of our lives. No broken bones. No deathly ill family members or furry friends. House stuff mostly. We're poor cause we're always poor. I finally found a doctor who confirmed my fear that I still have Lyme and I just finished up my 3rd round of treatment. Back in the spring I went through a Celiac Disease scare... Which turned out to be unfounded. However, the results from a CT scan that determined I was negative for Crohns, also showed that I have a softball sized cyst on my left ovary. Ugh. Now I completely understand those people who prefer not knowing a goddamn thing. Just leave me in the dark. Give me a bottle of Percs and a gift certificate for massage therapy and leave me fucking be.
Here's what I've been interneting all over lately: A few weeks ago it was the Jacob Wetterling disappearance. Now, you can read about it over on The Charley Project. Or you can read all the additional investigative, blow your mind mess on http://www.joybaker.com/2014/12/27/an-early-suspect/. I suggest starting as close to the beginning as possible and reading your way forward. While I haven't quite moved away from Jacob, I had to give it some space. It's a harrowing task. Delving into the minds of psychopaths and child molesters. It'll rob you of rest. So I moved elsewhere for the time being. I participated in a Healthy Recipe contest at work that turned out to be the biggest farce of a contest I've personally witnessed. I'm pissed because everything that comes out of the managers mouths is condescending, hypocritical and just motherfucking stupid. But I did walk away from the whole goddamn charade with a bit more confidence in my public speaking skills. This was a sign that one of the above research tirades, the one about going back to school, might not be so out there. As I have kicked around the idea of a Mass Comm/journalism degree. And one of the things holding me back from it was my fear of public speaking. So the positive reinforcement in that area will inevitably lead to more thorough researching...
Here's the rub, bub. I'm gonna be out of a job come the middle of next year. Honestly, Ya-fucking-Hoo. I've been waiting on this for like 7 or 8 yrs. So I gotta find another. Fine. Whatever. But I desperately need to learn how to do something that gives me some satisfaction and keeps me from hating and regretting every single decision I've ever made. I am not someone who is self-motivated. Particularly since John and I are painfully co-dependent. But when he's away, I do ok at TCB. Otherwise, I will cheerily let him handle any and all mundane household matters. I just have to find that thing that keeps me buzzed.
Current Internet obsession: Jane Pratt and Sassy/Jane magazine. I just read this gag-inducing, thinly veiled fictional account of the rise and fall and rise and fall and rise again of Jane, called Falling Out Of Fashion. Don't read it unless you were as devoted to Sassy magazine as I was. And even then, just be prepared to wish you really, really hadn't. I loved Sassy with all my heart. It crafted me and trained me and got me. Sassy was my art-school cousin from the city who swooped me up once a month and introduced me to all her cool friends and then shoved a handful of condoms in the pocket of my vintage Levis as a parting gift. Sassy was my best friend. Sassy is the reason Evan Dando follows me on twitter. Sassy is the reason John and I bonded over REM during our first conversation. So I've enjoyed the last 24 hrs or so of butt-ugly fashion, snarky reviews, shameless name dropping and post-feministing.
This is what I do. This is how it's did.