these interwar voices are left to speak for themselves

Hmm.

If I had to make a list of everything I've accomplished in these last few months, the list would be very sorry indeed. (And I don't throw the word "indeed" around lightly. I usually save it for occasions that involve cigars and pipes and quilted-satin smoking jackets and maybe a smart-looking top hat.)

I made a few decisions that completely change my 5-year plan. (Yes, I have one of those. Bite me.) Of course, further decision-making will be contingent on whoever wins the upcoming U.S. presidential election. I'm going to go ahead and say that the prospect of a McCain-Palin administration sincerely makes me want to fill a pillowcase with broken glass and beat myself to death with it. But, the U.S. election isn't the only thing that's giving me pause. Let's just say that everything will be cleared up come June 2009. If things go well, I'll be sure to make everyone sick of me and my news. If things don't go well, expect to see the rotten corpse of my dreams floating in the wasted river of my self-esteem.

Also, I started (and promptly discarded) two would-be novels. Strangely enough (or maybe not so much) I started them at roughly the same time, which I really should've taken as an indication of the extent of my commitment/fidelity. I distinctly remember whining about my affinity with the written word not too long ago. Well, news flash: I kind of suck at it. I'm going to stick to reading for now. I've been reading a bit of W.S. Maugham's work, and I may have spent a few gloomy hours staring up at my ceiling and despairing at my sad lack of talent. Oh, well. One delusion down; what's next?

Anyway, the past few months have been quite grueling. (Ok, not really. Like, the only exercise I've been doing is biking to the beach. It's really less impressive than it sounds as I live 3 blocks away from Jericho. Although, I make it a point to bike all the way to Locarno, ok. Plus, I've been not-so-grievously unemployed this whole while, all attempts at securing a part-time job for the summer having died small, petty deaths after a few weeks of half-hearted cover letters, etc.) They've been grueling on my peace of mind. I've so far considered (and promptly discarded) at least six career choices. (See bit about 5-year plan.) I'd enumerate, but honestly, I've already forgotten most of them.

I've been driving a lot. I blame my lack of a UPass. I don't know, paying upwards of $2.50 for a bus ride just doesn't hold much appeal for me (discount bus tickets notwithstanding). I've gotten a lot more zen about parking woes, so it's not so bad. How I'm going to survive without my trusty prolechariot is a mystery. But, really, that's a whole other can of worms.

I've had some experience with wading through red tape and jumping through visa-related hoops, but I can't quite fully quell the panic attacks. My love for the Philippines definitely, definitely does not extend to the weaksauce visa constraints of Filipino citizenship (plus: endemic corruption, thoughtless environmental degradation, and the vicious pervasiveness of the Catholic church, etc.). Boo, I say, a thousand times boo. I'm still aiming for a mid-October departure, but that's not looking too good.

Also, my darthbook is slowly dying. The battery is shot to shit, and there's even a gaping hole in its casing or whatever. My disappointment is deep and grave and made of the stuff of gangrenous open wounds.

I currently have no happy thoughts because bitching is generally more fun. Chances are, I'll have more to bitch about next week. But, as always, I'll be very passive-aggressive about it. And glib.