jamelah.net

• a modern-day fable about how how everything i am involved with goes irretrievably wrong, except without anything that would make it an actual modern-day fable, save the fact that now is the so-called “modern day”
• things that have happened to me lately, making me ask the eternal question, “why god, why?” in a plaintive voice while trying to decide whether or not shaking my fist would be too dramatic
• why getting my computer upgraded has made me appreciate the absolute, mind-numbing boredom of life in the nineteenth century, with revelation of my theory on why people in the nineteenth century didn’t know how bored they actually were
• thoughts on the end of a relationship that never actually happened, even though it had potential (except not really), with special emphasis placed on the fact that i am indeed a hopeless spinster although i have been told that i am not allowed to use the word “spinster” to describe myself until i have reached thirty years of age, except i’m sure those same people who tell me i’m not allowed to use the word “spinster” to describe myself until i am thirty will tell me, upon having reached the age of thirty, that i am not allowed to use the word “spinster” to describe myself until i am forty because they are jerks that way
• how i have learned from experience that unearthing human parts while gardening is quite unsettling and also pretty gross, though for some reason, finding a radius (which, along with the ulna, makes up part of the arm) is not as horrifying as finding a massive clump of long, black hair
• although it is a complete cliche, there are days when, if the choice between having something immensely heavy dropped on my foot and going to a carnival and delighting in the sugary wonder of cotton candy presented itself, i would choose having something immensely heavy dropped on my foot in the hopes that my foot would be broken and i would have an excuse to take painkillers and lay around with my feet up for a reasonable stretch of time – and by “reasonable stretch of time” i mean, at the very least, “oh, days and days”
• an irrational treatise on why, even though they don’t actually know how much we need to talk, everybody i need to speak to via telephone should just call me because i already have enough to do
• perhaps one might think that getting up half an hour early to do the pilates energy boost workout would be a good idea, believing it would give one extra energy to draw upon when facing the mundane tasks of daily life, but i am here to tell one that one would be totally wrong in that assumption
• although i have written on this subject before, the time has come to revisit the fact that i am indeed glad to have been born on september eleventh so that waiters and bartenders and gas station clerks can have something interesting to talk to me and their co-workers about after asking me for identification to prove that i am, in fact, old enough to purchase alcohol and/or cigarettes

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