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Attack Dragons
Jul. 22nd, 2003 11:48 am Get one! |
I'm pretty excited about having my own dragon. Hot damn. Too bad you can't teach those little bastards how to sic.
*sighs*
Here I am at work, totally unmotivated. I had a decent weekend and now it's difficult to settle in and accept data entry as my destiny. I need a new job. I need a new place to live. I need a new life. Sooner than later. Please.
This weekend I went to SF for a friend's Bridal Shower. The shower was your typical stroll through brunch, pastels, flowers, presents, and endless talk of the wedding. It was enjoyable, if a little uncomfortable (given my enduring cynicism about marriage--and yes, I kept my mouth shut). The other women there were very nice, however, every single person there was a lawyer. All of them. And they were all my age, give or take a year. I felt like a big fat winner in that group, especially when one of them sadly spoke of her friends who just couldn't get it together and how bad she felt for them; when they decided to grow up, they would be so behind and that disturbed her. I wanted to whip out my resume and say, "Babe, you don't know what behind is." Again, I refrained.
After the shower we retired to the bride's apartment and watched from her roof/deck as the San Francisco Symphony performed in Dolores Park. Afterwards, we had wine and Ethiopian food and I headed home.
On the drive home, all I could think about was how this city was calling to me. I needed to be somewhere where things happened, where people were young and where the world was still exciting. I had quite a revelry until I considered this: Both the bride and the girl throwing the bridal shower had these really cute, quaint, small apartments in a decent area of town (did you know that there were nice places in the Mission?!?). Nothing spectacular or grandiose, and certainly not extravagant. However, both the bride and the shower-giver had annual household incomes of over $250,000.00. If they're living relatively modestly on that sort of money, an unskilled poor buffoon like myself has no hope of surviving in the big city. This first depressed me, and then it enraged me. What kind of screwed up world are we living in where the cost of living outpaces most people's ability to earn? And then I remembered, that place is California. My parents are selling their two bedroom condo for $450,000.00 and buying a small three bedroom house for $570, 000.00. That is insane. This state is insane. It's going to hell on high property values and economic inequities.
Sobering thoughts on the way to Sacramento.
*heavy sigh*
I think I solved the mystery of my hair loss, the answer was in the pages of In Style Magazine (of all the stupid tripe). Normally I don't read In Style, much less take it for gospel, but there was a letter addressing my *exact* problem and the reply said that crash dieting can take a heavy toll on hair, usually three to six months after the weight loss. That time line certainly works. That's the last time I do that (and oh yes, I've gained the thirty five pounds back). Argh. I called Kaiser to confirm the magazine's reasoning. The advice nurse knew nothing of this, but she knew nothing of hair loss, so it was a draw. I'm taking In Style as the final word and am going to be smart about how to lose weight in the future.
However, the bigger question is, why the hell was I reading In Style? For chrissaakes, I was a media studies major! Is it just me or is this a season of sloth? I can't get excited about ANYTHING. Usually, I can at least get motivated about goofing off, but in these extreme temperatures, I can barely muster enthusiasm for that. I go to work, I finish my projects (save for the one I should be doing right now) quickly, and then sit bored...bored...bored. I can't entertain myself to save my life and I dread quitting time because it only ushers in an entire evening where I have to figure out what to do next. This summer has taken everything.
Bleck.
