AUTHOR: Beth TITLE: DATE: 6/15/2004 06:26:00 AM ----- BODY:

Sometimes Everything is Wrong

Yesterday I woke up as usual, got dressed as usual, got in the car as usual...and made it as far as Rte 129 before I pulled over, called in sick, turned around and hightailed it for my bed, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, directly to bed. I spent the next eight hours there. Around 4 pm I finally couldn't deal with being in bed anymore, and lurched into the living room where I spent another four or five hours staring blankly at the television. There was no way I could move that didn't set off an alarming sensation that my joints needed oil; down to the little gaps between my finger joints it felt like my bones were rubbing against each other without any lubrication or cartilage in between. Meanwhile my muscles, especially in my legs, were alternately cramping and pulling themselves apart. My mommy came home and took my temperature. It was around 100. She suggested, intelligently, that I take Tylenol, which I, less intelligently, hadn't really been doing. I feel better physically today, but mentally a serious wrench has been thrown into my gears. I don't know if it's a lack of routine, or a sense that I've fallen behind in any number of areas of work...but things are Not Good with me this morning. This blog, for example. No one reads it. Duh. Now that I've separated out the sports stuff (which has been popular) and made the masochistic mistake of putting up a comments section for each entry, it's only highlighted for me more clearly how un-interesting this space really is. Nobody gives a fuck, and that might include me. Sometimes I think that I might stop writing here until I have something to say. Sometimes I also think I should stop writing blogs anyway, because all that does is scratch my writing itch for the day and lets me get away without writing anything else of substance, ever. Or maybe I need to find an angle. A hook. Any ideas? Yeah, I thought not. Some days life feels full of gifts and other days waking up feels like biting into a piece of rotten fruit. Well la de frickin da, of course that's how it feels, that's how everyone feels. Say something new, goddamnit, or don't say anything at all. Wow. Interesting. I don't recall ever having been this totally frustrated.