Great ideas

This sounded like a good thing for me to do when I started this blog the other day. A way for me to vent. To express. To create. But since that time, I have not thought of anything to write about. And besides, who will read it? Me. And some day I will look back on all of this and laugh. Or cry.

Yesterday I was watching some show on The Food Network designed to whisk me back to my 70s childhood with thoughts of Pop Rocks (didn't that stuff used to be called "Space Dust"?) and Zero bars, when I was suddenly overcome with this sense of dread. Dread may not be the right word. Sadness? Emptiness? I tried to remember why. I asked myself..."What happened today that has upset me?" Was someone ill? No. Dead? No. The death of the Osbourne's dog Lulu upset me. But no. That wasn't it. I finally realised that Nothing Happened. Nothing. This was just simply how I felt. The past year has really taken its toll on me. My cat died, I lost my job, my dog died, and I had to give up my big beautiful house and move 500 miles away to a tiny little condo. All of this happened between May 2002 and May 2003. Enough already. I really think it is time to haul my butt to therapy. I always think of the movie "Girl, Interrupted" where they say "theRAPIST". Is that what therapy is? Rape? I mean, under normal circumstances you would not blurt out your deepest emotions to total strangers. But when you pay them and think it is "good for you", you do it. Oh I just don't know. This sounds like another great idea.

My Web page is about to be disabled. What's the point of having it anymore. I never do anything or go anywhere. God knows when I will actually travel again. So what is there to show people. I put a lot of work into it, but I just can't justify spending $89 to keep it up. Homestead started out as free. But over the past couple years they have started charging more and more. Talk about rape. Web space should be free. It doesn't even exist.

Another day of unemployment induced sloth drags on. Ahhhh, what to do today? Hang out with the Grams and the Mom? I don't think I can take much more of that. When will Matthew be home? 9 days and 50 minutes. And counting.