So, I'm a little homesick. Ok, I'm a lot homesick. Alright, alright, don't twist my arms--I'm so homesick I feel like mailing myself home. And yet...I wonder if I'm not doing the ol'bait and switch, self-sabatoge, I-don't-wanna-do-homework-no-more blues song that signifies nothing more than laziness and an inclination to "screw the pooch"!!
I mean, the fall colours here are breathtaking, the people are wonderful, the air is clean, blah blah blah freaking blah. I think I need a good coffee that isn't attached to Tim Hortons. Or I need to see some good ol'fashioned drag queens walking around. Or I need to go to a concert, or something.
I think my morning bus driver is causing all this angst. They have radio's on the bus here, and as you're driving around, they play one station or the other. All well and good if it's music you can tolerate, or if it's played at a decent level. However, at 7:10am, it is often not my favourite thing to be sitting on a bus listening to Queen played at ear-splitting volumes. I think it's a vain attempt to "wake us up." Sicko's. Now, the bus driver in question does not play the local oldies station, the local new music station, or any other local station of tolerable music. No, he plays the local elevator music station. I've never heard so many Casio organs, electic "beat" sounds or " Moon River " lyrics in my life. I mean, this is some old school stuff-often strident, seldom good. I love old jazz, lounge, blues. But this is a funk I can't describe-I mean it ain't even my mutha's music, know what I mean??
Hearing that first thing in the morning is bound to dampen even the most troopier trooper-isn't it?
And a sidenote-da mens are gettin' on my nerves. I'm wondering if there is a man alive out there who can talk reasonable about problems and not get wigged out. "Oh, ah, jeez, I don't know, I'm not one for giving advice, you might want to ask one of your, y'know, girlfriends about that one. Yeesh, wow, yeah, phew, really don't know..."Aaaaaargh! (Then again, most of my friends get on my nerves with advice because they PERSIST IN USING THAT DEMON SPAWNED LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE!!!)
By the way, since I'm on a rant, I hate the lottery because I do not win it.
Wow, ok, online diaries are good things. I feel like I've opened a window and all the clothes-eating moths have flown away, and wonderful fresh air is taking their place. And the knowledge that I have tainted those few (very few admittedly) loyal readers with my angst and negativity has let me know that pain shared is less pain for me to deal with!! Aaaah.
We also set our clocks back this weekend. So poor Venus loses another precious hour to da man! Blast! I could care less about coming home with the sun, I don't want to get up at 5:30 every morning. And I'm one of those poor literal bastards who can never for get that 7 was once 8 (or, that 7-8-9, ha ha), and live for the next several months waiting to get my time back. Time. Stupid relevance.
Well, tonight it TV night for me. I've worked out a sweet deal with one of my wonderful ladies from the floor (Shout out to da ladies from da floor!!)--(I know, I really have to stop....) and on Thursdays I go to her place and watch a little boob tube. I tell ya, I am a TV generation gal, and this is a little bit of sanity in my sea of weirdness. Yep, TV has made me the success I am today...ahem.
Well, I'm off like pants in the dark.
V.F.
PS-any comments on this journal would be appreciated-and if you have any comments to make, or questions you want answered, I'll put it in here. Also, if you know anyone who might find this funny-by god, pass it on!
Sheesh!
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