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All content copyright 2010 by Chelsea Biondolillo. Seriously.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

365 days of being a writer: day 122

The days are just blending now. I am not so stoked for this Christmas. I think I like the holidays when I can't buy anyone all the stuff I'd like to the least, and being here, that fact is unavoidable. I can't just send a card. They'll ALL be here. And they all just want STUFF. It's depressing that that's what Christmas is all about over here, is I guess what I'm saying.

I did get up early today, sort of. I did not get up early ENOUGH but then I stayed home later than normal to make up for it. This means I had to drive instead of taking the bus. You know what I hate? Driving. And owning a car. And also driving it.

I get demoralized when I have to drive, and I am always just on the edge of a nervous breakdown. And I get pissed. Fucking traffic. Fucking rocks flying around hitting windshields (that aren't covered under fucking Arizona goddamn insurance). Stupid ass hoses and belts and tires and all other manner of bits of the godamned thing that crack or snap or flatten or tear. And did I mention traffic? O how I hate shit-eating jerkoffs who have to: beat you to the light, cut around you even though you're ALREADY fucking speeding, ride your ass 'cause you're not speeding ENOUGH, slow down as soon as they get around you just to be a dick, weave in and out of all the lanes trying to get ONE LOUSY CAR LENGTH ahead of everyone else, gun their engines in the turn lane to get around you, make their brakes a disco ball 'cause they're riding the person in front of THEM, talk on the phone and thusly weave over all the lanes and play the gas pedal like it's a musical fucking instrument and the speed limit is a damn fugue. You know? Not that it has anything to do with writing but it makes me SO DAMN MAD that I can't do anything else except slam doors and kick the cat around after having to drive during rush hour.

I don't really kick the cat. Come ON.

SO, that said, I would love to hear what makes any of y'all out there so mad you can't write or play or whatever it is that you do. It would help me feel a little less freakish.

This morning I worked on a probably-final edit of the bees. There might be one more bit of feedback coming in. Now I'm just waiting for my letters of recommendation before sending off this UWashington app.

(Aside: I just went to YouTube to find a suitable "temper tantrum" video to include, and well. There's a lot. And except for a couple of the four year olds, none were very close. But then I figured that the big ass sweary paragraph up there probably gives a good enough impression. So instead, here's another nice song.)

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