Oops. I've been letting my blog slide. My apologies to the faithful readers I've got left.

Boredom is the bane of my existence. I hate it. I will do almost anything to avoid it. Boredom represents a total failure of my physical, mental, emotional, imaginative, and spiritual capabilities. When I'm bored, I'm also boring, and I know it. I will wage fierce war against the evil inherent in boredom until the day I die.

On a more positive note, I've discovered that I am most likely markedly intelligent. That's a good thing. It helps to explain my idiosyncrasies and sometimes slightly odd behavior, the sources of which I have been determined lately to uproot. Not that I'm a genius or anything. I've often considered taking an IQ test, but upon contemplation instantly found myself engaging in civil war over the idea, torn between burning curiosity about what score I'd get and paralyzing fear of scoring lower than my own expectations. Besides which, it costs money I don't have to spare. But intelligence is subdivided into many categories anyway, only a few of which might be measured by an IQ test; and as the intelligent are aware, their smarts are not the key to happiness.

In this blog entry, I've used a mix of contractions and their unadulterated counterparts, which absolutely drives me nuts. Unfortunately for my obsessive tendencies, the English language has developed to the point of assigning slightly different meanings to a phrase or sentence depending on whether or not a contraction is used... for example, have not is more formal, aggressive, and confrontational than haven't. Therefore, I am regrettably unable to enforce complete conformity throughout these paragraphs regarding the use of contractions, because changing words to the contracted state or back from it would in some cases adversely affect their meaning. Thus, I am helpless, caught between a rock and a cliff's edge. What a pickle.

Not that pickles are bad or anything. In fact, I find them rather nice.

 
And now we return to the continuing story of inconsistency that characterizes Tot's life.

This weekend, everything fell apart. Everything. Consequently, I have chosen to give up. Life sucks so badly when lived on a deeper level that I refuse to stay there. I want peace, and I will obtain it at any cost, short of a complete loss of faith. On the contrary, I am relying so much more on faith now because I have no other prop to keep me going. All I know is, I have to make it through the next 60 or 70 years until I can go to a place where the deeper side of me is allowed to thrive. Until then, I have a right to be angry and disgusted with the Big Fat Disappointment that is human existence, and I have a right to protect myself from being caught up in it. This cursed planet isn't where I belong, and it's not going to come through for me, not in its current state.

This morning was a relatively delightful experience, though. A former high school classmate of mine is in town, and we had lunch together. Her 4-month-old baby is a beautiful little girl with a constantly recurring smile. After seeing her, I'm all the more eager to find a husband and get myself a family. My 22nd birthday is looming on tomorrow's horizon, so perhaps that's why my biological clock seems to be ticking more loudly these days.

And on goes the dreary procession of workdays... indexing, cd burning, decision making. Back to the grind I go. Somehow I can't imagine doing this kind of thing for the rest of my life. How curious.

 
Well! It's been an interesting weekend.

Saturday zipped by at the pace of a track team gone mad. I spent the morning using my excellent womanly survival skills at Walmart, shopping with an efficiency rivaling that employed by Texas fire ants. I knew what I wanted and I got it, then raced home to lunch and yard work. Mowing the lawn took three hours; then I planted onion sets in the garden before joining my parents for the evening meal at Applebee's. About halfway through my steak, I nearly fell asleep in it as the exhaustion from sunshine and lawn mower pushing finally hit me. If it weren't for Gladiator, I think I would have gone to bed right after supper; but that's a great movie, by the way. It's too bad Russell Crowe is such a liberal. Hehe, I love all you liberal readers, don't get cranky. I'd definitely say he's a good actor, though.

Today was much more relaxed. I accompanied a friend to Fargo and back, since she needed something from Petco and didn't want to make the trip by herself. I don't blame her; I wouldn't have stayed awake the whole way either, especially through that kind of rain. Got home a few hours ago, and now I'm trying to gather enough energy to finish my weekend duties. My hands are still quite sore from pushing the mower yesterday, so I'm a bit apprehensive about vacuuming the living room and washing dishes. I suppose it's gotta be done, nonetheless.

Yeah. Maybe after a half-hour of SimCity. If I don't get to my chores today, there's always tomorrow, right? Right.