Excuses, excuses
Thursday, October 05, 2006, 6:50 PM

So I was talking to Oogie the other day and she said she’d noticed that I don’t post as much anymore. It wasn’t exactly a criticism, just an Oogie-ism; she knows I share what’s inside best by writing about it. Others have said it, too. And yeah. I mean, no. I don’t post as much anymore. Why?

Laziness. Notice how I’ve listed this first? I get home after work and usually the last thing I feel like doing is sitting down at another computer and staring at another monitor. I’d rather eat a can of lima beans without anything to drink.

Depression. I’ve been feeling it for what seems like forever (not just since my divorce, state-relocation, new job, or scary new life adjustment), but since about birth, I think. It’s just that it all seemed to come to a head this year and when I’m depressed, I’m Silent Sally, not Chatty Cathy. Which is probably a bad thing, but I yam what I yam. I’m much more likely to get drunk with you and fall on my head and barf than to bawl on your shoulder, even though the bawling on the shoulder part seems like it would be much better for both of us.

Things going south with LA people who probably still read this blog. It doesn’t feel quite so liberating to share anymore, ye ken?

Sun, moon and star mis-alignment, otherwise known as biorhythms.

Booze. Up until 11 days ago, I used to make myself a drink, sometimes two, by six o’clock every night. And that pretty much robbed me of all creative and productive energies. So I was there, did that, and am now trying to get past that because I don’t want to call my sister some night at one o’clock in the morning and cry-scream at her about life like she does to me. My life turns even more topsy-turvy after she calls. It's disturbing. It's scary. And I don't want to do that to someone else.

And there you have it.

5 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .