Finger Cramp!

I can’t decide whether or not it’s wrong to use blogging as a time-wasting avoidance tactic. I mean…isn’t that what Facebook is for? Mindless, addictive, totally useless Facebook? That’s totally not what I’m doing here. Being mindless, addicted or totally useless, I mean. Blogging requires creativity (except for poll day). It’s an art. I’m not writing this shit for you, I’m crafting it. There’s a difference. So I should take no issue with stopping what I’m technically “supposed” to be doing to listen to the call of the muse or whatever. I mean, it’s kind of my duty, to not let inspiration pass me by. My duty as a “writer”. Yes, I may call myself a “writer”. I don’t even have to tack “aspiring” to the front of that term, wanna know why? Because when I’m done type – type - typing away here, I’m going to hit a button called publish. And BOOM. I’m a published fucking writer. I don’t need to aspire to shit. You try to bring up the fact that I’m not getting paid for this and I’ll cut you.

Kara’s crabby today. That’s what you’re turning to say to whoever is in the room right now. And you’ll be correct, I am crabby. That’s also my duty as a card-carrying member of the fairer sex, to be crabby for no apparent reason. I don’t try to explain it. I just warn you that it’s coming so you can dress in the appropriate riot gear.

This election has me bored. I know. I want to punch me in the face too. This nonsense with McCain ads comparing Obama to Paris Hilton…it’s just dumb. I can’t even find a better adjective for how dumb it is, so I’ll stick with a poetic device instead. It’s as dumb as how long I’ve been staring at this mole on my stomach and wondering if it looks pre-cancerous without ever having seen an actual picture of a pre-cancerous mole. I’ll probably go google one in the not-too-distant future.

But first, it’s stupid hot in here and the Missus is wearing socks and slippers because he doesn’t like the cold concrete floor. Is this weird to anyone else? Maybe I need to make it the next poll. I am sometimes obsessed with trying to understand people. I often come up short. [Due to my height, I now feel like I should be offended by that term and will cease using it.] I often end up disappointed. Not in the people, but in myself for failing to understand them. I’d make a terrible head shrinker. In both occupational senses of the word.

This post has come full circle. If that full circle was missing a chunk out of the left side, I mean. But this is what you get when I try to post more than once a week in the summer. You get time-wasting avoidance blurbs. And with that…the chunk has been filled in. I bid you good day.