As usual....
Tuesday, Sept. 04, 2007 12:05 PM

�I think I mentioned to Bob [Geldof] I could make love for eight hours. What I didn't say was that this included four hours of begging and then dinner and a movie.� - Sting

I was lying in bed this morning trying to fall asleep. I kept tossing and turning as if a different position would do me some good. It didn't matter if I was on my stomach, lying on my back or curled up into a ball and positioned on my side. Sleep would not come to me.

As usual when this happens, random thoughts filled my head. I thought about the strange guy that was lurking in the parking lot at Dillon's (the grocery store here), how even if you give up your religion it still controls you, and about how my nieces and nephew were singing a song about God earlier that day. I wondered about the things they were learning at that Catholic school of theirs, if they actually believed that God created the world in six days and took a break on the seventh. Most of all, I wondered how long it would take until the Catholic Guilt set in.

The Catholic Guilt. That's something that's been controlling my life for decades. I'm no longer a practicing Catholic. I'm not even sure if I should be classified as Catholic or not anymore. I mean, maybe it's a lifetime membership club. Once you join (whether it's by choice or not) you're a member forever. I can't see myself being classified as anything else, though. I just don't agree with half of what they teach. What a condundrum!

So, as usual, I spill part of my lunch down my shirt. I don't understand this at all. I mean, I am a stickler about good table manners. Sure, sometimes I may put my elbows on the table, but I chew with my mouth closed. All I have to say is thank goodness for those Shout Wipes. They're a lifesaver. It's too bad they aren't cherry flavored, though.

Even though today is Tuesday, it feels way too much like a Monday. I love three day holidays, but I hate the overload of mail that arrives. When Tuesday's are Monday's, the mail flow is worse than Monday's. Does that even make sense? On top of that, you have to be careful what you wish for. I wanted more to do. Now I have a lot to do, and I sometimes feel overwhelmed. Oh, well. It beats sitting around all day wasting away the hours.

The reason this entry is so random is because I'm writing it between... well... random breaks from work.

Well, since Dipshit won't quit reading my diary, I guess I'll give him something to read. First off, I'm referring to him as Dipshit because he backstabbed me. It was bad enough he kept his relationship with I.B. (Imature Bitch) from me, but a completely different matter when he told her how to reaccess my diary after I had banned her I.P. address. I consider that betrayal to a level just below the upmost degree.

Anyhow, I was talking to somebody about a month or two ago right after the whole I.B. fiasco. I won't say who they are because it's not important for anybody to know but me. We were discussing the history of this whole dramatic situation and how I.B. treated her friends who had crushes on Dipshit, etc. etc. etc. You know, how jealous she got when anybody took an interest in him and how she didn't even want him to be friends with me. We came to the conclusion that I.B. just doesn't want to share Dipshit and never has. I.B. wants Dispshit all to herself. Now she's got him. The question is, is she satisfied? She certainly doesn't act satisfied.

There. That should satisfy their drama lust for awhile. Hey, you two! How ya doing? Hope it's all working out for you happy little bunnies, you.

Why am I calling them bunnies? Little bunnies are cute. They aren't cute. And I'm also imagining little pink bunnies, too. Little pink bunnies with their noses twitching and their ears up in the air munching on some stale carrots. Maybe I'm just thinking of bunnies because I said bunnies, and when I think of bunnies I think of pink bunnies. Little pink bunnies with their noses twitching and their ears up in the air munching on some stale carrots.

I really need to learn how to relax some. As usual, I'm sitting here at work thinking of ways to organize things around this place better. I keep thinking about the file cabinets. I'd feel so much better if they were lined up right. I'd also feel so much better if my typewriter was in my office somehow. Of course, it's not hurting anything sitting out there in the commons area just waiting for me to use it. But no! I'm sitting here thinking about how much better I would feel if it was in my office with me.

I'd move it into my office with me but I have no room for it. I have an L shaped desk, a fake tree, a lateral file cabinet, a Kansas Director's chair, and two bookshelves. I'm getting a bigger lateral file cabinet because the one I have is getting too small. Where I'm going to put the smaller one, I don't know. Hence my paranoia, here. I need to CALM down. It's okay if things are stored in other areas. Why can't I convince my brain of this??? Why am I so territorial with my stuff that I don't feel right unless it's in a place I feel comfortable with it being?

I'm even worse when it comes to my home stuff. To me, my closet is a complete and total disaster area. My mom helped me flip my mattress over this weekend and saw the inside of my closet. She said it looked nice and organized. I'm all like, "what? It looks like crap. Things aren't folded neatly." See! I have problems. I fixate on something that isn't organized and I freak out about it until it is. At least to my specifications.

Maybe I need to go back on Prozac. It's not like I have much of a sex drive right now anyway - and that was really the only drawback to Prozac.

Maybe I just have too much crap. Maybe what I need is to simplify my life and have as little as possible material wise. I mean, why do I need 4 televisions, 2 computers, 2 laptops, 2 cars, and enough clothes to clothe a village? It's not that I don't give away enough to Goodwill on a semi-annual basis. I give away so much stuff! And yet, it's like I'm not even making a dent to the pile. Granted, I do have this compulsive behavior to go out and buy a lot of material goods at random. I'd rather use the money to travel with or buy things for other people... but no. Whenever I feel something lacking in my life, I go out and buy more stuff than I need too. And on top of that, my mother keeps going shopping and buying me even more stuff.

I know what I need to do. I need to go through my clothes, once again, and donate to the Goodwill. I need to take one of my computers and donate it to a school. Then, when I get the urge to splurge, I need to take that money and buy things for the homeless shelters or some other charity. I mean, I could be donating food or supplies to the Humane's Society, even. Oh, and I could also spend the money on paint for my bedroom walls.

Okay. It's time for me to go through all the crap I own and start simplifying my life. I am sick and tired of having so much crap. In fact, for my most depressing of birthdays this year, I think I shall ask everyone to just give me money. I don't need anything else. And on top of that, I need to find out a way to stop this worrying over the little things like my typewriter being located out in the commons area. That's just silly!

Ooh! Time to go home now. Woohoo!