The Soapbox

Daily Diatribe 10/5/98:"I am lazy. Very, very, very, very lazy."
(perhaps more aptly named: "I'm tired. Very, very, very, very tired.")

I am lazy. I don't like to do things. I like to talk about doing things. I like to henpeck my boyfriend about never taking me anywhere. I like to think about going places, but I don't like to actually ever get off my rump and go. Why is this? Because I'm overworked and underpaid, of course. And, as with every other miserable fact in my life, it's my own dang fault.

See, early on in life most of you learned -- in whatever language you call your own -- to say a simple word: "no." And for the life of me, I can't seem to ever say that when it really counts. Oh, I manage to say it plenty when asked if I want to be paid for my time or when offered term life insurance. But just ask me to commit 400 hours to your community theatre project or your wedding or your orchestra event and then suggest that I host the strike party at my place and buy all the food and all the booze and all the toilet paper, and see what happens. I'll say "yes," that's what'll happen. Guaranteed. And then I'll complain about it. Behind your back.

And on top of that I have a big-ass full-time job. So after working eight or nine or fifteen hours a day for the Man, I donate every other waking moment to "creative" things that never net me anything cashwise. End result: I'm exhausted and have very little will to live.

It has been suggested to me that I should exercise more, to which I am known to respond -- my mouth full of powdered doughnuts -- with a resounding, "Shut up! I'm tired." That's it, really. I'm too tired. And I know exercise is supposed to give you more energy, but I think you have to fully overhaul your lifestyle and change your eating habits and wait to see results in several weeks, and I just don't have that kind of time. Although, I hear some interesting things about adding Grape Nuts to one's breakfast routine...Well, that would never work for me anyway. My breakfast typically consists of whatever lipstick I inadvertently remove from my lips with my teeth or tongue and subsequently swallow. So the chances of my sitting down to a balanced breakfast on a daily basis are slim to nill.

What hope is there for me? None, I'm sure. Maybe when I settle down and have a family, I'll be able to use them as scapegoats for my unwillingness to participate in anything other than group sleeping. But until then, I am stuck with my lot. Of course, the real zinger is that on the rare occasion that I do have a few days of nothing to do, it KILLS me. I go completely bonkers and am disgusted with myself for lack of productivity.

So, there it is. I'm loo loo. Hopelessly so. Pray for me, if you like. But be advised that once I outgrow this huge guilt complex and sense of obligation to strangers, I'll probably can the website forthwith. It's a gigantic pain, believe me. So why not send me an email letting me know how much you appreciate me and my efforts. And while you're at it, ask for a free font or instructions on how to bevel your type graphics or send me a graphic of a typeface and ask me to identify it and THEN send it to you -- everyone else is doing it.

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