I've felt like journaling again lately. And if you think I have fidelity issues with a blog, you should see what kind of commitment-wary wretch I wrap myself into when there's a paper journal at stake. Self-exploration (in the metaphysical, rather than the "Our Bodies, Ourselves" sense) is terrifying, even for someone who spends as much time as I with her head lodged firmly in her own (again, metaphysical) rectum. So it's back to my poor, sparse blog.

I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, allegedly getting some work done at home before I head back to campus, but really just waiting for the effing Fed Ex truck to arrive. I finally caved and ordered RAM for my poor, much-maligned Macbook Pro. The poor thing is so dreadfully slow, and these days it gets hung up trying to do ANYTHING. Load a webpage? hope you don't mind waiting 2 and a half minutes. Lord be with you if you want to open a sizable .pdf or (heaven forfend!) run too many programs at once. Anyway, it finally sunk in that I've been stalling with the whole, "oh, I'm buying a new laptop when X" line of reasoning for over a year now - so many iterations of X have come and gone that I've made a liar and fool of myself ten times over. And memory is cheap (now THERE's a line worth exploring further) and will presumably make a huge difference. It had better! I'm going from 1GB to 2GB, and just to be safe I moved about half of the contents of my hard drive to external storage. Yes, I know that that shouldn't make a difference, but a superstitious gal like myself doesn't like seeing "5MB available" or whatever ridiculous amount I was down to in the clear space department.

But that's not what I came to talk about. I came to talk about the draft.

Hehe

No, really. Fucking Fed Ex. Nevermind that they're viciously non-union. I've sort of lost a lot of my street cred when it comes to that brand of stridency anyway. Here's what's galling me: my fucking RAM arrived in Ann Arbor at 7:30 am on Saturday. SATURDAY! And now it's nearly 3 on Monday and I'm still waiting. Fucking Ann Arbor isn't that big. The U.S. Goddamned Postal Service would have had it here by now, with a smile. Why do they even bother with online package tracking when their service is so shit-ass appalling? I'd be happier if I didn't know that my personal salvation was sitting in some stupid hangar within a 5 square mile radius of my home for the last 60 hours or so. Seriously, when you think about the amount of time I spend wedded to my computer (by necessity, mind you) and then figure out how much more speedy this is going to make everything, Fed Ex has likely cost me a couple of hours off my life this weekend. This is what I get when I pay extra for expedited shipping?

If you're thinking that this is maybe an excessive reaction to one of Life's Little Annoyances, well, then you've anticipated my next move. Which is that I am So. Fucking. Moody these days. Like, for no good reason. And don't even suggest that this is a menstrual cycle thing, a) because you'd be wrong, b) because there are only two people who ever even dream of reading this, and they're both badass women who'd kick your butt for going there, and c) because have I mentioned that I'm moody? and really, I'm as likely to bare my teeth and snarl as look at you anyway.

I don't know what my emotional mega-responses are all about, but they're growing tiresome. I spent the whole weekend past being weepy and lethargic and melancholic and misanthropic. Thank god my dogs don't judge me.

* Okay, really they're just masturbation references, and then only in the negative. Got you reading though, right?!