Its a sick, sad little world.  I don't know why I expect celebrities to act better than other people just because they're in the public eye, when they usually act worse.  Zach Braff is off my favorite funny guy list.  If you saw him on Punk'd you'll understand why.  But what is worse than his reaction to being tricked is the thousand + comments on his blog that say how great he is, regardless of what a psycho jerk he was to a little kid.

That's a shallow, petty thing to focus on, but there it is.

Today was my first official day as a full-time graphic designer.  Yay.  I just realized today how hard its going to be to get anything else done, since I'm 13 miles away from Ponca for nine hours out of the day now.  Ah well.  You know I never wanted a title just so I could feel like someone, because I think there are plenty of hardworking women who stay home and take care of their kids who are doing just as much or more for society by doing that well.  My friend Janice is one of them, and she's great at it.  I was not.  I need a schedule and things to do or I just sort of wander around the house aimlessly and usually end up doing weird things like typing up lists of what movies I've seen.  I am glad I had the opportunity to stay home when my kids were younger, and I miss being here for Josh when I have to work so late in the evening, but in some small and not earth-shattering way, I feel a little less invisible now. 

It could also be that I'm not standing behind someone else anymore. 

I hate to say I'm happy, because that's almost a guarantee that it won't last, but . . . yeah.

I'm, you know, "happy" because work is going great and I have new friends and for a bunch of reasons that would be too tedious and uninteresting to explain.  I'm exhausted and sleepy but I don't want to go to sleep.  And I need to get up in 5 hours.

Haley is getting glue and paint on the floor, and almost don't even care . . . criminy.  I wish I could list the people who made me happy today; they make up for my usual disdain for people in general, but I don't want to leave people out or make others feel bad.  So, you know who you are.  =)

*edit*

I hope you know who you are.  Lets put it this way - if you made me smile today, you're on the list, and I'm really very thankful to have you in my life. 

I am chock full of feelings . . . I think I need a little shock therapy or something.  Or maybe just some comfort food and a hug.  My brain feels like there's a hurricane in it, but I could also fall asleep sitting here.  Too little sleep; too much to do.  This is where denial comes in handy.

Random things pop into my head, like "I was eloquent . . . shit." from You've Got Mail; songs, parts of dreams (Daniel Walker, I dreamed that I was yelling at you for cancelling going to some art thing with me, because apparently in dream world, you always cancel on me.  So I'm sorry I dream-yelled at you.), random memories (good and bad), a constantly running list of things I need to do, flashbacks of arguments, parts of tv shows, desparate prayers, wishing for this or that, the occasional contentedness, followed consistently by doubt, fear, and a whole lot of paranoia and "what the hell do I do now" thoughts, a faint worry about how I haven't checked the oil in my car yet that runs in the background, along with  some guilt, loss, that feeling of having my insides squeezed and my heart stabbed about a gazillion times, bits of Dave Barry and Dane Cook, Pogo, Calvin and Hobbes, and that Queen song I listened to a few days ago, "We are the knights who say 'Ni'" and other Monty Python bits, Wayne's World and Friends comparisons to real life at every turn; God, who interrupts my thoughts every now and then to quietly remind me that he's there and I'm ignoring him, childhood flashbacks, elaborate imaginary scenarios, and the minute details of a person who probably doesn't even exist, at least not here; parts of Bible verses, bits of books ("So long David, good luck beating that rape charge"), how Gidget can be hugely fat and pretty at the same time (evil can be pretty), and what the heck does "meow" mean to a cat?  Josh, Haley, my family, and everyone I've ever known, who pop in and out like the moles on a whack-a-mole game, obsessive anxiety over a wide array of stupid things, and how I'm really hungry yet I'm sitting here typing this drivel instead of eating. 

All that and more goes on in my head constantly . . . except when I'm doing graphic design work.  I love my job. 

Currently Reading Me Talk Pretty One Day By David Sedaris see related

Oh my, what a sick person my daughter is . . .  she just made me laugh so hard I cried, but she sacrificed a poor boiled egg's soul to do it.  It was worth it.  Too bad we don't have video of it; you don't see that kind of thing every day.  Well, except when Haley is around. 

Weekends are way too short.