Good lord, this month has been one crazy, scraggly sonuvabitch. I feel like a tiny Fraggle who had her cave torn asunder by a massive Gorg who shook the shit out of it. And yeah, I’m using a kid’s show reference that kind of sounds dirty as an analogy, deal with it.
It’s like Ken told me when I filled him in: “You have one wacky life.” Tell me about it.
But, things look to be mostly back on track, so I’ve got my chin up and I’m shaking it off and moving onward. ONWARD!
What are we onward to? Well, here’s the work-related recap: tonight I went “undercover” at an industry event to get to know the biz in a way I couldn’t before, and I’m flying to New York in 36 hours for our research trip. Man, my life is weird. But I learned so much, the experience was absolutely invaluable as a writer. It humanized the business in a way I haven’t been able to grasp before, and my writing will be better for it. Of course, when I actually think about what I was pretending to be and really think about the people I talked to tonight, it’s so fucking surreal. Ken asked me before we got there if I was nervous, and my response was that I was more nervous about the fact that the event wasn’t making me nervous. When did this become commonplace for me?!
On the personal side…ehhhh. Things could be better. My dad describes times like this as a cosmic negative wave, where we all find ourselves simultaneously and unexpectedly mired in bullshit. Sure feels that way. Explains all the drinking, anyway.
Don’t worry, I’m doing that old exaggerating thing again (mostly). So I may have put away an entire bottle of wine, written an inflammatory entry in my Little Red Journal that a certain nosy ass boyfriend of mine happened to read, and gotten myself into a world of trouble that I really didn’t need, but whatevs. That’s how I do.
It’s funny: my parents are such drastically different people, but on the same day they both inadvertently gave me the same advice on two totally different topics: just focus on making myself happy. Don’t answer to anyone else, including them. Just live to please myself and things will work themselves out somehow in some form or another.
Apparently I’m an easy read. I thought I was doing a pretty decent job of keeping up appearances and hiding all the doubts and worries I have, but apparently that ain’t the case.
But I have amazing friends and wonderful family and a job that I’m passionate about, so I really can’t complain. All’s well that ends well, amirite?!
At least I’m not stuck in Gilbert with no friends and a fat ignorant dump of a husband. Oooooo, yeah, I went there, deal with THAT. Here’s the backstory on that burn: once upon a time, there was a group of friends that was completely inseparable. They were so inseparable, in fact, that they would often make a single massive bed by pushing all their mattresses together like sad little hobo orphans. They went on vacations together, spent all their time together, and, well, you get the point. One day, one of the members of this inseparable group fell in love with a big sweaty racist toad, the kind of rotten hateful Christian that makes other Christians embarrassed. Well, the rest of the group was pretty shocked by this, but they did their damnedest to try and see what she saw in the son of a bitch. After several interventions, heartfelt conversations, and a plethora of verbalized concerns over the value of this “man,” the Universe yelled “FINISH THEM!” and he proposed. Now, a red flag that you’re accepting a proposal from the wrong person is that when you best friend and roommate (aka, Me) finds out that you’re engaged, she bawls her eyes out instead of being happy for you. But whatever, what do I know about that sort of thing. Long story short, a few months into their engagement, I finally had enough and ended our friendship and asked her to move out of my house. Her remaining friend and link to the once inseparable group grinned and beared it as her maid of honor as long as she could, but also eventually severed ties with Mr. and Mrs. Skullfuck after a wildly passive-aggressive display on their end. Now that former member of the once inseparable group lives back in the hometown the rest of the group left in the dust, with no friends of her own. That last friend standing is now studying her chosen profession at one of the most elite programs in the country, and the other two friends are successfully pursuing their own dreams of television writing (well, one is…the other is paying the bills and being successful in writing by proxy).
The moral of the story? I don’t know…listen to your friends? Don’t make terrible choices and throw your life away on the first guy who pays you any attention? Stay friends with awesome people? Who cares. The rest of the group has been filled in with family and is tighter than ever, and we’re all happy and productive people, so who needs her.
Speaking of weddings, though: Alyssa and Ryan got themselves hitched! It was a beautiful ceremony and a bangin’ reception. We all cried like babies…hungry, angry babies. The night was beautiful and fun and hilarious and everyone had an amazing time, and I’m SO proud of my cousin and her husband. Here are a few of my favorite photos from the wedding:
All right, that about does it for tonight’s recap. Stay tuned for a post from the concrete jungle where dreams are made. Maybe if you’re lucky, there will be a vlog comin’ at ya! If only I could find the charger for Hot Carl….
Tune du Jour: Tales of the Extraordinary – Season One: The Shadow of the Unknown I went to the live recording of the season 2 finale of this self-described “1920’s Pulp Radio Serial”, and it was hilarious, so I’m going back to the beginning to listen to the entire show. Join me! Of course, my opinion of the show may be colored by the fact that some of my favorite people act in it, but don’t let that dampen my credibility as an unbiased referrer of audio joy.