Monday, November 08, 2004

I've calmed down, I promise.

I'm still pissed, naturally, but I'm calmer about it. I mean, what the hell can I do? I've got other, more personal and pressing things to get depressed about.

It's nice and all to see the "don't give up hope!" types, with their lists of what you can do, but it seems like many of them are things one can't do without already having a lot of money. Which, you know, I don't.

On top of the readily apparent woes, I'm starting to realize the rapid approach of Christmas, which means plane tickets, presents, and the birthdays of two people close to me (as well as my own). Goddamn, I need a job...

Kevin has discovered Curb Your Enthusiasm. He failed the yield the title instructions and watched half the episodes in a day, with me trapped by his side. Not that I didn't enjoy the show, of course, but it's painful to watch. It's that gnawing sense of dramatic irony, the knowing he's going to piss everyone off through some miscommunication and end up worse for wear, and having no power to stop it. That can drive me batshit.

But not like zombies, no.

I think some mention of zombies crept into my dreams last night, waking me up and giving me brief pause before I returned to slumber. Stupid zombies.

3 comments:

Chris said...

Lauren had enough of the show after a couple of episodes, but I love it. I know what you mean, though. I find it dangerous that I relate so much to Larry David. Oh well, I suppose one does go batshit when one lives by irony alone.

Anonymous said...

hey! i read your horoscope. it says you'll get a job.

emily said...

Chris, I find it odd that you and Kevin, who have practically opposite personalities in several overt ways, have extremely similar predispositions toward liking that neurotic Jewish New Yorker thing. However, he seems more amused by it than commissery (like commisserating--is that a damn word?).

And thank you, anonymous, I hope the stars are right.

I just made a batch of amazing-smelling and not-too-bad-tasting vegan lemon-blueberry scones that I must go stare gleefully at.