The chairman of the bored

Note:(This should have been last nights post but blogspot had a spazz instead)

Class is canceled tonight, so I have an illicit additional evening to attempt to: do way overdue Math and English homework, fill out financial aid forms and write a letter to submit with a scholarship application which will extol my virtues while keepin’ it real and humble.

A fantastic side effect is that I get to listen to the whole Face The Music Hour with Professor Arwulf Arwulf, instead of just the first 15 minutes which is all I usually catch on the way to school. We’re old compatriots. I really owe him a tremendous debt of gratitude and love. He really livened up my whole existence in High School with his Surrealist Literature class in 9th grade and then teaching me radio in 11th and 12th grade. And just generally putting up with my smarmy and obnoxious ass repeatedly as a young person. And now for continuing to provide me (us) with wonderful radio on Thursdays at 7pm on WCBN and Sundays at 10:00am till 1:00pm on WEMU.

I made possibly the weirdest smoothies ever, which, not having been made with my own yoghurt had the consistency of a fluffy, fruity, pudding.

I have been going through one of those periods where I can’t seem to answer the phone, look at the mail, pay the bills, or read the newspapers. Despite having read May 15th through June 4th the other day to try atone, I still can’t seem to attain any further rummaging through the great piles of paperwork which have stacked up.

I am not sure what to call it. Lethargy, anxiety, depression? Oh my! Lethargy maybe. Anxiety, maybe. Depression? I don’t think so. I could be wrong but I’m not convinced. I keep writing it off to having been so very sick and stressed out that I just need a lot of naps and what not but it seems to be a little deeper than that.


Maybe it’s due to having had very little in the way of fun lately. I may really need a thorough dusting off. It’s been very close to 2 years since I’ve gotten stupid drunk, torn my ass, broken a bone or two and hurt myself in some ridiculous fashion. Although the broken hand that never healed properly from the last bout of drunk on a skate board is still reminding me not to do it again. But there is nothing quite like a good drunk or trip to get the cobwebs outta my brain. Right now the little spiders of staleness seem to have taken up permanent residence.
I tell myself “you are an old and sick lady my friend, and that’s all behind you now.” But I am BORED! And I’m rarely bored. Even reading Bond all week and finding a Louisa May Alcott I’d never read hasn’t really helped.

Wahh. I’m just a little pitiful right now. Ignore me while I go soak my head.