TGIF: Wiped!

Long friggin' week, and it ain't done yet, but it's getting there. I still need to work five hours tomorrow, but at least I can sleep in, AND I can ride my bike there.

I'll probably go out tonight even though sleeping's about the sexiest thing I've ever heard of, but hey, being social works. The Vespa crowd's getting together and there are some cute-ish guys there, of the "my kind" variety, and there was one giving me a little attention last month that might show up. Besides, they're fun people, and I can't drop the getting-social ball like that anyhow.

Fuck, Sunday I'm sleeping in, cleaning up, and fucking avoiding people. I don't like feeling like I need to avoid people but this week, I friggin' well do. I'll teach two students for the last time Monday night: Droppin' 'em. Then I'll tutor 2 hours Weds, and tell them that's it for a couple weeks. I've decided I'll continue tutoring, but I won't do much else as far as working on the side goes. Life's too short, and I'm too fucking busy.

Thing is, I can keep workign 55-hour weeks now, and not live my life, or I can get a year down the road and say, "You know, that really didn't get me any farther" and feel the regret then that I'm already feeling now. For some of us, money's just an means to an end. I want to be rich, but there are prices I will NOT pay for it.

So, I've registered my domain name, have decided to go with WordPress, and will tonight or tomorrow acquire some webhosting for my new blog. This time, I'm a free agent.

My Cunting blog's almost in the top 8,000 in the world on Alexa. Fucking FEAR me. World domination next!

Yeah, I dunno, I take the blogging thing too seriously, probably, but why shouldn't I? I'd love for that to be my career. Dunno if I can handle it right now, but in the longterm, that's what I'd love. I'm just getting burnt out right now 'cos everything's coming from everywhere.

But, yeah, writing rocks. Sigh. I love it and weirdly miss it right now, like nothing's coming out true, 'cos I'm always scratching the surface of what my life is right now and not getting under the skin. That's the dilemma I face. Like most writers, I write to try and tap into something. Not scratch, tap into. So, yeah, in some ways I'm left constantly feeling like I'm failing that goal right now. Weird. But I'm writing more than I have in a long time. There are moments, I suppose, but too much filler. I know it. I have no illusions. Right now, writing's more a pressure valve or coping mechanism. It's getting me by.

In other news, lunches: I've been eating some frozen entrees for lunch this week, and we are so far 0 for 2. The PC reduced-fat mac & cheese? A waste of time. Three cheeses? Yeah, and they ALL taste like nothing! And, hello, a little salt, please? Holy blandness from hell, Batman. Then there was the rotini with chicken and pesto, again with the boring-on-a-plate theme. Hello? Flavour! Fuck, man.

Nope, one plus to finally working normal evening hours would be cooking: I'd have cheap lunches that actually tasted good. There's a notion. Saves money there, too, about $30 a week or so.

Ah well, tomorrow I can sleep in.

[ED NOTE: It occurs to me how giddy I am that while I might not be exercising right now, I'm steadily either losing or maintaining my weight -- a first for me in a time of depression and overwork -- and an especially good thing given that weight gain is a side effect of my particular antidepressant. If I haven't gained weight from it by now, chances are I will not. This fucking rocks. I dug out an older pair of jeans today, and it's official, I need to buy a belt. I keep having to hike up my jeans. Wickid!]