Saradactyl.com

Yet another cop-out blog.

This was my weekend painting project. I could point out all the flaws... the fact that I don't feel like it's done... or that just THINKING about painting mini-people in the basket of that balloon is driving me nutty - but I won't. I'll just sigh, and stare, and stay all-too-busy being my own worst critic. :-Þ

Got the blahs. But I'm wearing jeans, so it's all good.

I've got it bad. The "Blahs". I hate them... where you're totally neutral. I would almost rather be completely erratic in my neuroses than to be ... just ... blah. No extreme feelings or thought processes. Just floating - and not really inclined to flip back over and ride the waves again. Just ... existing.

On a more positive note, my relationship with Scott has, for all intents and purposes, gone down the tubes. Oh, wait - I was supposed to say something positive.... hmmmmm. :-Þ More details on that later, when I feel more like hashing it all out.

I painted yesterday ... that was the first time I had ever done that without plan, assignment, or necessity. Just drew, and slapped some paint on. It was GREAT! Very liberating. I didn't even balk all that much when I had to clean up my mess, because I was proud of my accomplishment - flawed and haphazardly put together, though it was.

UGH, I'm dreading Christmas this year. It has totally snuck up on me!! Doesn't it seem like YESTERDAY that I was buying 5 different calendars for 2003? I hate this time of year... having to take the inventory of my life for these past 365-odd days. I don't feel like I've really accomplished anything... I've just... existed. Hmmm, I'm starting to note a pattern here. ^_^

Well, I have lost almost 50 lbs. I guess that's sumpin'. :-Þ

Speaking of which - I'm mildly concerned about maintaining some sense of sanity during the Thanksgiving/Holiday feasting. We're doing a lot of low-carb substitutions, and we're frying a turkey (NUM-NUM), but there's just NO substitution for my Mama's Potato and Sage dressing. I really don't want to be one of those people who revert back to their old way of eating, justified by the fact that it's a "holiday". I really wanna be at my goal weight by late spring of 2004 ... and it's feasible if I'll just eat SANELY throughout the Holidaze.

On that note - I'll plug my new blog: The Low-Carb Nazi ... it's still in the baby stage, but it'll rawk once it gets going in full-force. My apologies to those with smaller screen resolutions - it cuts the banner off, and you have to scroll from side to side. Ew, that totally bites I know! I'm gonna tweak it when I get home this evening, so don't fret! In the meantime the tag-line reads: "Changing the world ... one steak at a time." Hehehe... clever, no?

Okokokokokokok. I'm gonna stop avoiding work now, and get to it. Y'all have a good week... and I'll see if I can't get out of this funk. :-)

Ta-ta.

It's 12:29 - do you know where YOUR money is?

I have no money.

I should clarify that back when I first started making money, that statement would only come if I had received an "NSF" note in the mail, or after I had reached a $5.00 balance in the checking account - you know, whichever I found out first.

I will be the first to tell you that I'm hopelessly irresponsible when it comes to the handling of my finances. I pay my bills late, I blow my money on eating out, I never balance my checkbook. Budgeting? Forget it. Debt? I got it out the wazoo. It's not that I don't have money available to do what I need to do - it's just that... well - I want to have FUN, darn it. I don't wanna spend all my money on the stupid bills. I want new clothes, new eye shadow, and a salad shaker. I want to take my friends out to eat dinner, and take my sisters to a movie. I want to buy everyone's over-priced latte's when we hang out at B&N. I want to buy my TV a new antennae, and buy my sister the very best for her birthday gift.

I want, I want, I want.

Me, me, me.

Mine, mine, mine.

Waaaaa, waaaaaa, waaaaaa.

Ew, I make myself sick! Fact is? I'm not independently wealthy, and I need to stop living as if I were. Granted, I've been part of the working world for 7 years, and am making more money now than I ever did when I first started out at minimum wage. So when I say I'm "broke", that doesn't mean I'm in the hole ... it just means I don't have the nice comfortable buffer in the checking account that I've grown accustomed to. But still.....

Sometimes I feel like I need a good swift kick in the pants.

I'm 22 years old, and I'll be darned - I still have maturing to do. By golly, you'd think I woulda done growed up. But no. Apparently? I don't have it all figured out. *insert major eye roll here* Sheesh. WILL I EVER GET IT RIGHT?????? Probably not. I'm like a stupid bird flying into the window over and over and over - never learning from my mistakes, but continuing to smack in to the same pane ... each time expecting a different result.

Yup. It's official. I'm totally insane.

can
i
just
go
back
to
bed
and
start
over
?

Look out! It's the hormonally crazed cyclone of doom!!!

I am so run ragged by my hormones this month! I don't know what the deal is, but the Hallelujah chorus was playing in the background when I finally "STARTED" this morning. Everyone can now breathe again. Sorta.

Well, I took some Pamprin this morning - 3, to be exact - and I didn't realize it was going to make me drowsy. I looked on the label under "Warnings", and it indicated it "may cause drowsiness". Would've been nice if I had noticed that BEFORE I took 3! Anything with that kind of warning generally knocks me out cold. No droopy eyelids, no yawning, no bobbing head. I experience the let-me-just-fall-out-on-the-floor-and-let-me-sleep-for-another-12-hours-kind-of "drowsy". So, I make it to work in one piece, but I'm beat. Totally ... utterly ... beat. So, I fall asleep as soon as I hit the parking lot and nap for 30 minutes. I forced (FORCED) myself to get out of the car and drag in to the building. I've been in a sleepy stooper all morning, and I just feel like crap.

I'm bloated.
I'm miserable.
My face is broke out.
I want sugar.
And my hair looks like crap.

I just... feel... BLEH.

So watch out - my Hormonally Crazed Cyclone of Doom is on the war path again. *insert screams of terror here*