Day 14
Everything was warm and sunny, until mother left. I know it's not that enticing to write about the weather, but too bad it's my blog and there is an odd coincidence going on. I know when most people bring up odd coincidences they are really just saying they are mentally unstable, but, the weather started to turn rotten when mother got on the airplane to leave. At first I thought I could cope, until I realized that not only does the rain make it easy to just lay around and do nothing, but, there is no cure. Getting out doesn't help, drinking 64 ounces of coffee doesn't help, taping your eyelids open with lined packing tape doesn't help, I'm starting to wonder if this type of situation would be a beautiful one in which to start selling Ritalin, if only I could get my ass out of bed. But, I think it would be alright if I could train my mind to only have pleasant dreams. Hook a feeding tube up to me and give me a dream where I can see Patrick Dempsey's ass and I'd be set for life.
Eventually, I left the comfort of bed to go to work. All of my peers here seem to have high profile bitch positions in their "departments" and I work at the bar. (Shit, maybe that is my department...scary) Anyway, while my fellow residents tackle the world's scientific dilemmas I fill disgusting mop buckets and count wine bottles. If the tasks weren't bad enough I had to work with a wiry Literature guy, who informed me that he doesn't read American authors. All I could do was stare at his cold sore the entire time that he wasn't exercising his new favorite pastime; watching fat new girls run up and down three flights of stairs. At one point, I apologized for being slow and saw the sly grin on his face (that he tried to hide). Then, when everything was FINALLY set up, (it takes a long time for a tired fat girl to run stairs) we were told to take it all back down. The event had been cancelled. When we were FINALLY finished again I asked if I could go home and the little twit actually turned to me and said, "You could go home, but why would you want to?" Did he really think I wanted to sit and have a drink with him? Those Lit people are more full of shit than I ever imagined. I turned to him and said, "No, I think I'll go home and write about your nasty cold sore and pompous attitude." Well, if I could do it all over again I would've said it...
I am new to this blogging thing and tonight I was bumming around my blogger account to find a section entitled, "Blogs of Note". I clicked into it, thinking there'd be some real gems, and, of course, wondering if I was on the list (writers are egomaniacs, not pompous like Lit Dicks). My heart hardened when I didn't see my blog on the list, just as it does everytime I find my mailbox empty like Charlie Brown does around Valentines Day. After getting over the shock and questioning whomever made the list's taste I clicked through a few of these so-called precious, "Blogs of Note". They all had one thing in common, they all had pictures. What? This goes against the definition of a blog.
Main Entry:
blog
Part of Speech:
n
Definition:
an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called Weblog, Web log
Example:
Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author.
Etymology:
shortened form of Weblog
Usage:
blog, blogged, blogging v, blogger n
(from dictionary.com)
I am worried about the state of the word "diary". Do twelve year old girls still write crazy shit about boys in little books that have a lock and key? Do they have blogs full of photos instead? Do images alone reflect the personality of the author? Are people not going to be able to read actual words in ten years? Eventually will we all tote around computers and pop up images of what we are thinking because we won't have the words to define it, because the web was taken over by pictures? I'm going to go make a camp in my forest of dictionaries in the sub-basement of the library and clutch them like jewels...or pictures of jewels.
-Canadian Castaway
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