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12:32 a.m. - 2005-07-07
A pox on Mrs. Feilds!

Ive been staring at a blank white Word document for like ten minutes now. The little blinking cursor- oh how it mocks me.

I've been confronting myself with the idea that I may have found what I really want to do with my life. That writting may be what truly makes me feel happy and fulfilled, and since this occured to me I've been unable to write anything, not even d-land entries.* Im terrified to give this a serious try and have to find out that I'm not any good at it. Its too important to me.

*I see at least 2 people dropped me from their favorites list in my absence. Oh yee of little faith! Of course in their defense they may have believed I was dead, based on the contents of my last update.

As to that: I am fine, my dad took the news rather well, the car is totaled and I'm taking the bus to my new job. I was hired on at my favorite clothing store the day after the accident. Its fun when there are lots of customers to help but I'm way overqualified. When its slow I have to fold clothes for hours and I'm getting so bored I'm about to start lighting shit on fire. Just to shake things up a little. And mall-work carries much more insidious evils than boredom. I speak now of The Food Court (dun dun dun!). 4th of July I got off work at 7 and hadnt eaten anything all day and my blood sugar was dropping. I happened pass a Mrs. Feilds that was still open, and it turns out that during the last hours of business they have a "buy 4 get 4 free" sale. So of course I walked away with 8 cookies. My body has never taken large doses of sugar very well but now it seems to be trying to physically reject it. Over the next 18 hours I ate those 8 cookies and have spent the last 36 hours feeling like I was going to toss them. Yesterday I got distracted talking to a coworker after closing and took a wrong turn and got lost. The place is so fucking big I got LOST in the MALL where I WORK.

On a completely unrelated note my accent preferences seem to be changing. A good british accent has always given me a serious moistie, but now I'm suddenly finding southern accents to be just hip-grindingly thigh-clenchingy sexy. Personally, I blame Greg.

(Todays entry dedicated to Arlette for walking me through some writer's bock. So, blame her. -CatsPJs)


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