On Saturday, I was quite busy--I went back to SF (YET AGAIN) because Jackie wanted me to help plan out her novel. This went amazingly well. Without getting into the details of what the novel's about, she'd mention that she had such-and-such an idea, but how should she work it out, and I'd be all, "well, here's a few ideas or examples of what other people did or stuff that isn't as played out as other tropes" and we were hitting the jackpot on what to do, over and over again.

Though I did have the thought of, "Seriously, why am I better at helping someone out with their plot than I am at coming out with my own?" I can't think of my own plots for crap, they're always weak as hell, but if someone tells me what they want, I can brainstorm it. It's a shame that I clearly wasn't meant to write fiction--unless I hand off the plot details to someone else, I guess. Maybe I should hire myself out for this kind of thing. It's a shame I am no longer in a writer's group to pass it on to someone who could use it.

On Sunday, I was in a whiny-ass fucking mood. I periodically have a day (usually a Sunday) where I just don't have a lot of energy to leave the house until like, 3 or 4 or something, skip the gym, and just sit in front of the television going. "Buh." And that's what I did. I didn't go to anything I had planned on doing that day, which is a shame.

And during mandatory phone call time, Mom went on and on and on and on about other people's drama that's incredibly depressing and it felt like she was sucking my soul out through the phone just to listen to the misery. I really don't know what to say about someone who's suicidal, miserable, and self-medicating with things he shouldn't be, or what to say when your friend harasses you constantly to get a short butch haircut with no bangs because that's the only haircut old ladies should have. Yeah, that's how it went for an hour and a half. Yes, I said this was soul sucking and depressing and could she stop and could we please stop talking already...it took a half hour to get her off the phone after that. Fun times.

Today is Blue Monday. Hah, I'm even wearing blue. Now, considering that I have the day off and got to watch the inauguration (before the dentist), it's not as bad as other Blue Mondays. Even if it involved having to go to the dentist, where I got told that thanks to my wisdom teeth surgery not healing properly, I will always have two large spaces by my back teeth that I can in no way clean properly, and thus I'll have to use up all of my insurance money for the year this year to get them deep cleaned again, every 3 years/for the rest of my life, unless it gets bad enough that I have to get a bone graft or the teeth removed entirely. LOVELY. I'll be spending half of April at the dentist because apparently it is Quite Urgent that I get this done soon.

A few years ago I got the idea to make up a holiday for the occasion--it involved buying cheap Hawaiian-themed decorations at the dollar store and drinking froofy drinks. Then I realized I had a class that night or something and couldn't do it, and never did. But I still kind of wish I was having a drinking party anyway. I did get an invite to a pub trivia night, but it's (a) being held at a restaurant at which I don't really like the cuisine, and (b) I would have had to have sat there for an hour and a half before the trivia night started just to hold the table. So I did not RSVP to go. Since I will probably be going to the movies with L tonight at the same time instead (we are theoretically going to see Ryan, Emma, and a lot of shooting in Gangster Squad as a topper to her finishing off a giant project at work due today), that's probably all for the best. But maybe I'll have a solo drinking party at my house anyway when I get home tonight or something.

This is the bleak midwinter time, even if January has had unexpectedly sunny weather for most of it so far. (Still cold, though.) This is around the time of year where Dad died--six years now. And nearing the anniversary of the ending of my last relationship--yeah, even LONGER ago. And also the anniversary of my saying, "Okay, now that Dad's dead, I am going to figure out what to do with my life." And six years of study and research and trying things out later... I got nothing. And I am tired of that. To the point where I actually pray for divine intervention on this topic now, not that it's happening. Time is ticking and all I do is waste it and think, "I want much more than this provincial life." But does it exist for the likes of me? It looks like the answer to that is no.

I'm tired of this, but I don't know what the fuck else to do with me other than kill time by knitting and shopping and reading and watching television and spending my mental time anywhere but here.

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