I realized today that it's been a long time since I derived any sort of real joy from something as simple and mundane as a smell in the air. I was walking downtown today, filing death certificates of course, and I was near the international district when, wham, I got this whiff of deep fried CHINA, sauteed VIETNAM, baked and broiled KOREA and it was fantastic! Suddenly, it's like all my senses just opened up their eyes (or ears, or what-have-you) and everything I saw or heard or smelled was a reminder of how great it was that I was here, and not under the ground somewhere. The smell of the food in the reletively clean air, the little crow with multi-colored wrist bands who followed me for about twenty feet on the sidewalk (do crows have wrists?), the hillclimb I forced myself to do by parking at the top of Yesler when there were obviously going to be spots much closer to the health department, the fact that I got excersize on the clock... that's great! How many people get paid to improve their own health? When I got back to the office, I immediately changed my desktop background. Some little snippet from an old X-files episode that came to me in those moments of clarity downtown. "Cerulean Blue is like a gentle breeze." How true is that, I thought. I did a google search and found this really calming wall-paper called "cerulean blue". I commited myself to having a better day, getting through til 5:00, with a smile. Aiming to please. And then throwing a party after it's all over!

Things can get to looking pretty shitty when you're luck has been poor for months and months. You start to expect it. But today (even if it's only for today) I made a concious effort to forget about my shitty job, forget about the bank account, forget about the fact that no matter how hard I try to plan some sort of get together, people won't fail to cancel at the last minute, forget about everything weighing down on mer, and just enjoy the smell of fresh chinese food. Enjoy a chat with a bum on the street. I can't seem to stress this to myself enough. I need to remind myself more often how little time we all have.

Creativity

I have these creative bursts, but only when I'm trapped at my prison-desk in the funeral home.

... Damn, I wish I could write a book. Or a poem. Or a play. Whenever the mood strikes. It's like holding it in when your bladder's about to explode. You're stuck in a corporate-mandated seminar on the new and improved "Family Heritage Registry" (boring as fuck, if you're at all curious... and definitly not worth your $95.50) and all you think about is how bad you've got to PEE. You know the feeling. I have a creativity tract infection.

I see a piece of art in a restaurant, or hear a new song or see a video on Youtube, and I think... well, I could do something like that. But when am I supposed to find the time? If there's one thing I've learned about me, it's that I work best at something when I have no distractions or commitments or anything. Nothing else. Just writing a book. And if the ideal circumstances existed, I really do believe I could do it.

I'm not talking about acting. I can work acting into my every day life. It can be stressful, but I can handle it. I'm talking about some big life-changing sort of project. Something that has an impact. When do I do that?

When indeed.

Allison is to brokeassmuthafucka as Life is to SUCKS

AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGH! my fucking car! AAAARRRRGHGHGHFUCKFUCKFUCKFUFKCFUFCKCUFKFKK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT RRRRRGRGRGRGRGGGGHG FJSFLAKJDS :I HATE LIFE>!


This is one way of dealing with stress. Another way is to drive your piece of shit car into your piece of shit workplace and see what kind of gargantuan flames two tons of formaldahyde can make.

If I'm not feeling better by this afternoon, I might opt for the latter.

Just when you thought it was okay...

...to purchase a non-refundable plane ticket (no wait, count 'em - TWO non-refundable plane tickets) to Los Angeles, your car breaks down and ends up costing you upwards of $700. And since you're broke as a joke, you borrow it from your boyfriend. Am I pathetic? Today, I believe, the answer is a resounding YES.

I don't know how I'm supposed to do this LIFE thing. I'm so burnt out. And I'm only 22. I'm so terrified of every bad break around every sharp corner. I'm so scared that nothing's going to work. I can pump myself and tell myself that it is. But then shit like this happens and my tiny world comes crashing down and nothing is right. Maybe I need to seek therapy. Maybe.

Don't we all?

Not a good week in the grand scheme of things. Not a good week.