smothered hope

I had a little creative burst which yielded three limericks and a pseudo-beat poem. They were written for 43People pages belonging to girls I know. I don't know if that counts as creativity, but I really liked the beat poem, in any case. Maybe I just need a muse. Any takers? You must be adorable, smart and independent. (N.B. This is not a boy/girlfriend solicitation. 43People page not required. No purchase necessary. Must be legal drinking age to enter.)

I've been making an exceptional number of typos today, especially the kind where I reverse two letters in a word. I've always thought Diaryland needed a spell check option, and today would be a good day for that.

I'm still waiting for my manager to tell me whether or not I can have next week off. I asked two weeks ago. I reminded him again last week. This is getting to be stupid. I have plans, and I'd like to begin on them. Perhaps I should just work a few more weeks, not spend a cent until that time and then quit? I simply can't decide anymore. There was talk of a new database, to be created by yours truly; a huge undertaking involving many hours work. Of course, no guarantee whatsoever of a contract or any sort of security. A raise? Pffft.

Fuck it. I just want to be independent. And while we're on the topic of dreams, I've been having more vivid nocturnal imagery lately, as I am wont to do when stressed. One that comes up frequently when I feel confused or worried about my waking life is that I've been shipped back to high school for some reason, to the utter disdain and contempt of everyone. Last week I dreamt that Mr. Knowitall was my teacher. Ugh. There was another recurring theme that cropped up in Friday night's revue wherein I was some sort of spy/mercenary/agent/person with a mission, pursued by minions of the Vast Nefarious Conspiracy to Eradicate Me. (Watching The Bourne Supremacy before bed probably didn't help.) Yay. Fun. I don't think we need Freud to explain that I need a vacation.

My friend Sarah is in town for a few months, and she's ready to burst forth with baby goodness. She came over for dinner last night, along with the beautiful Celina. Sarah is one of those people who's just meant to have kids. She looks gorgeous with her belly (despite her insistence that she's fat and bloated), and still had the same sunny disposition, regardless of whatever hormones and constant kicks to the ribs must be doing to her body and mental state. Steve cooked fresh pheasant for her and the other omnivores, and a beautiful veggie "stuffing" for the vegetarians, along with asparagus, artichoke hearts and sauteed potatoes in a light sauce. (He's brilliant.) The wine could have been better, though.

My guests satyed into the evening, and we delighted in the musical mastery of Gunther. It's no secret that my roomie, Julien, has been leading a double life, as can be demonstrated by this photo. That's what you get for having a trendy mullet.

back | forth

listening:
reading:
ingesting:
(see entries before 20.11.05)

previously on Smothered Hope:

unreal - 20.05.08
in which our narrator kinda just babbles on a bit - 15.05.08
drank several margaritas last night. they were great. - 04.05.08
spacey - 29.04.08
i will most definitely regret posting this in public - 28.04.08