So somebody had some choice words about my writing. They had some very valid points and overall it was a serious compliment, but it was accompanied by some pretty shitty generalizations. I tried very hard to be grateful, because the overall message was confidence in my writing, but it was very hard to listen.
You're going to have to forgive me for my mini rant. I don't know what it is about Sundays that sucks so bad. Plus I am not ready to go face another week, and it depresses the shit out of me that my next adventure is not for over a month, and at this very moment I am cranky. That was one of the assessments, by the way: that I write about self pity. And self-righteous indignation. Waaaahhh, goddammit.
The main argument is that I'm wasting time and I need to be writing actual pieces and submitting them. That is valid. I agree. And this is just my outlet. I like it better than writing in my journal. Where else can you bathe in self pity and self-righteous indignation? But if that's all there is to read, then that's what you have to judge. Noted. But this stuff here is not for your judgment. It's for my sanity. And I can't laugh about this stuff until I process it. This is my process.
I got back from Virginia on Wednesday, and I have a blog on order about that, though it will take energy I don't have at the moment, which means that could never show up. Tracy requested it though, so I will follow through if she harasses me enough.
In the meantime, here's what's happening at the moment:
I went to pick up Riley from Chris's house on Wednesday, because Mike and Elaine decided not to come get her for the week I was gone as we planned. I don't know why, and I'm afraid the answer will just annoy me. Jasmine was just as excited as Riley to see me, and very sad when she didn't get to come with us. Chris asked if I could take her this weekend, as he would be working a lot. I was wrecked and not looking for extra dog duty quite yet, but agreed on Friday. Friday went all haywire and I never heard from him Saturday, but I got a call around 7:00 Saturday night from an unidentified person who said, "Um hi... I've got... Jasmine?" I took down the address and headed right over, calling Chris on the way. He sounded upset, saying that his roommate must have let her out and forgotten to bring her back in. She was almost two miles away from the house, and she perked up when she saw me. She ran to me and was so excited to see me that she headbutted me a couple times. "You have a REALLY sweet dog," the finder told me.
It was really weird- I was supposed to pick her up on Saturday, I had asked Chris about her food on Wednesday, I was given a stack of coupons at work and had actually gone through them that afternoon and found one for her food, I had just put her food bowl through my dishwasher, I bought another dog blanket that afternoon... it was serendipitous, as Sparky put it. I think it's more like being tuned into the universe, like when I think a person will text me a second before they do. My number was listed on the tag because I made that tag months ago at PetSmart. It was supposed to be Chris's number, then Topaz, but I put myself right in the middle. It was a good thing, since Chris's number has since been disconnected. When we got back to my place, Jasmine ran all the way to my door.
So that was weird.
I have a horrifying number of books to read before the end of the year. I am currently debating about what to read next. Tracy suggested Unbroken, as did Shannon, but I'm not sure I can handle a devastating true story, which is usually my favorite genre. The trip, the family drama, and the wedding seem to have sucked all the energy out of me. I should start scheduling a recovery day after my vacations. I don't mean that to sound as awful as it does. I had a good time, and enjoyed the company, the family, the wedding. I even danced exuberantly and hit a wine glass... ugh. I will cringe forever at that memory. Other than that and the drama, it was a perfectly lovely visit. It was nice to be among trees in the rain, but I did breathe a surprising sigh of relief when the plane descended and I saw Nevada's brown wrinkles. Maybe it's just my little place of solitude, or being in control of my day, or driving my car, or wailing to my music. It felt good to collect my critters and curl up in my bed. I suppose it felt good to be back at work too, but that is a different form of stress that is all challenging and character building and all that bullshit and a story for another day. Tonight I have watched a Frasier episode and giggled, ate a delicious meal that I cooked, already portioned out the leftovers, I walked the dogs individually, I did tons of laundry, I cleaned, I reorganized, I even watched a movie earlier today. It was not a bad Sunday, but Sundays are oddly my least favorite days. Now I guess I understand why you don't like fall, Mom.
