hell's kitchen

Tra la la.

Well. Yet another week passes and I am still here, pulling my hair out and pondering what on earth the next step is to be. I have misplaced a (thankfully small) paycheck and my bank account is actually lower than I last thought. So it goes.

What else, though? Surely there's something else to discuss. I am still thankful that I do have work-- two jobs, in fact, while other people have none. One job is even likable, while the other one provides me with a small amount of prestige. Even though it makes me permanently anxious (which is silly. clearly the worst that can happen is being fired, and that's not so bad. people are fired all of the time. not me, yet, but I don't think one person makes it through their young lives without such an event).

I have finished reading a good number of books, chief among them My Booky Wook, which has prompted me to write a letter to Russell Brand, one of the strangest people in the world (I don't even find his comedy all that funny. But I love this book), and Persuasion, my third Austen. I also read Candy Girl, about Diablo Cody's time spent as a stripper, so of course now any sexual innocence I had is fried right out of my brain.

Highlight of my week, text from my father:

Dad: "I just scrabbled [sic] eggs!"

Me: "Oh dad! I'm so proud!"

Dad: "Next stop, Hell's Kitchen!"

...hahahaa. My dad can be adorable.


My computer needs to come back. I find it impossible to strategize without it. Impossible. Damn! Damn! Damn!