So, I’ve tried. I’ve tried really hard to write about my real life happenings as well as the Vampire Diaries recaps (for those of you just here for the pretty, shirtless sparklepires, my apologies. I’ll get back to them, I promise). It just ain’t happening. In what may be the most fucked up ménage à trois I’ve ever encountered my words have run off along with my pants and my job. I’ve put off writing this in the hopes that today would be the day I could finally write, but it hasn’t happened yet and so sitting in the Barnes & Noble Cafe on my mother’s shiny, new Macbook I present unto you my cop out.
The real life happenings are not so daunting and overwhelming that I feel like my words running off is justifiable, because it could be worse. They are daunting and overwhelming for me, don’t get me wrong, but I’m trying to keep my perspective in check. But this not being able to write about it is starting to piss me off. This is how I deal. I don’t talk about it (much to my the dismay of my parents and friends), I don’t spill my guts to any willing ear. I write. I poke fun of the situation and myself. I avoid. But mainly? Mainly I write. And I haven’t been able to do that either here or in a nonpublic setting. I hit about 100 words and stall out. And those 100 words? Suck. Suck big time. Oh lawd, do they suck. They don’t accurately encompass the love and just flat out support I’ve had thrown (and that really is the only way for me to accept it, for it to be thrown at me so I’m accepting it before I even have a chance to turn it down) at me by friends and family and how grateful I feel for it. I can’t seem to organize my thoughts on how terrifying and paralyzing this whole joblessness is even though I know it won’t be forever and I’m not the first or the last person for this to happen to. I can’t find the best way to say that despite all the support and love I still feel utterly alone in this (the aloneness being a carry over from being terminally single while all my friends go and marry themselves off) and how incredibly guilty that makes me feel. And maybe that’s the problem. There’s too much for me to tackle. I haven’t figured out how to break it down into bite-sized pieces yet. I will. I’m confident that I will eventually, but I’m not a patient person and the fact that the one thing I want to write about is being elusive is just about the most frustrating thing ever.
And I haven’t done the recaps because I felt like the important stuff needed to come first. But now, well now I feel like I’ve got 400 words here already that I don’t completely hate, vaguely addressing what I wanted to address and I’m feeling a little bit more inspired to try the recaps. Because oh do we have to talk CW. Oh yes we do.
So, for now I’ll spend the majority of my time without pants on, discovering new things to put peanut butter on and making sure my Diet Coke supply doesn’t dip too low. Oh and looking for a job. Definitely looking for a job.
I did put pants on to go see New Moon: The Wolfening at midnight though, because I have my priorities people.