Oh, my.

It's so annoying that you think you're some kind of god. You push around the "underlings" like they don't matter. You commit all varieties of malpractice every day. You are angry because life didn't turn out your way. Listen, sister, the dream didn't work out for me, but you don't see me running around acting like I own this place. Don't take it out on me ad don't take it out on the helpless new people, either.

...and I could solve some mysteries, too.

Do what you love?

That's funny. There are so many things that I love. If I had done what I loved, I would be some variety of journalist or writer right now. Maybe then it would be fashionable to live a bleak, impoverished existence of misery and isolation. I would have a way to channel all this energy and anger into something productive.

Of course, the backup careers are extensive. Translator; makeup artist; photographer; veterinary technician; fashion designer; chef. But these aren't the types of careers that get supported in my family. They never really felt like options. So now, while I stare at my staggering student debt and inability to escape the life that I resent, I wonder what I was thinking. I did something I hate and I'm terrible at it.

I'm playing it safe right now, of course. The rational part of me knows that I have options. The practical part of me says that to explore those options right now would be futile or foolish. But still, I feel the need for something else. I have this sense that it's just a matter of time before I go chasing after something completely ridiculous and love every minute of it.

the. end.

I hate to admit it, but the days are shorter. The air is crisper. Tomorrow will be the last cookout of the year for most people. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for the sales at the mall this weekend, and the excitement over Halloween and plans for the holidays. But to embrace this time means to embrace the inevitable. The cold, the snow, the dead plants and trees, the dangerous driving conditions, the constant illness. That's just the beginning, though. Then there are the holidays and my birthday. Maybe if my birthday were at some other time of the year, it would be enjoyable. But no one except close family ever has time to come celebrate with me; I'm just an afterthought that's easily brushed aside in the wake of Christmas and Hanukkah.

Shivering when I climb into my car at the beginning or end of the day. Brushing snow off my windshield and roof. Jeans. Sweaters. Undershirts. Socks under socks. Snow boots. Heavy wool layers. Scarves and hats. Gloves and mittens. All those layers, just wrapping me in my misery and dread. No, I won't enjoy this holiday, which means the end of pleasant weather and freedom. Every year around this time, a little part of me dies. I don't expect it to come back to life until I live somewhere much warmer and further away.

sticky.

Sometimes, I feel like I spend most of my life with a cold. I'm either just getting one, or I already have one, or I'm just getting over one, or I'm living in fear of getting another one.

I was really looking forward to this weekend. I was going to enjoy my time off work. I was going to see family and de-stress. Instead, I'm swaddled in a blanket cursing my itchy throat, watery eyes and faucet-like nose. I can't go to the gym. I can't clean. I can't do anything. This time tomorrow, I know the cough will set in. For now, the most exciting thing I can do is attach my press-on nails and appreciate that my entire situation is kind of sticky.