A Mind is a Terrible Thing
2003-11-10, 1:55 p.m.

I had LOADS to say, peoples, just loads of significant and thought-provoking topics, with no time to type it all. I remember somewhere in the last couple crazed weeks saying to myself, "Self, wontchu write that down, so you have something to say when you have time to say something?" But Self ignored me, as is its wont. So, alas, I presently have a gaping void where the last few weeks would have resided. Sorry. There are self-help groups you can attend in order to get over this, I'm sure.

Four days until the closing on our house and my head is spinning, what with the details and the panic of it not all being completed by the builders in time. I've been really unbearable to deal with of late, evidenced not only by Matt's statement, "You're really unbearable to deal with of late," but also confirmed by the fact that none of the crucial people involved in this shimmysham (realtor, builder, mortgage dude, insurance guy, etc.) will return my calls. Riiiiiiight. I leave a message for one of these ass-clowns and they return the call to Matt. Ouch. So yeah, guess that's a good sign that I need a valium. But I don't mind.

Other than enjoying those confirmations that I'm an asshole, I'm just trying to pack and to teach my family their first lesson in GET OFF ME. First, the packing: disgusting. Hello, Conspicuous Consumption Jesus. I'm serious--it's really bad. It's not so much that I have found piles of more shit than I know what to do with, of course there's that, but more, it's that the stuff that I have, say a camera or a surround sound system or a scanner, I don't even know how to properly use! And instead of buckling down and getting a handle on the magic known as Technology, what do I do? Go buy something else that I don't know how to use. Lenin, hear my rebel yell, because lord have mercy, this system of accumulation must be put down, like a sick dog. But after I buy a plasma TV, OK?

So, my name is like shit-stain with la famiglia, because for the first time in my adult life, I have refused to spend the holidays at my parents, and naturally, that declaration is the harbinger of Armageddon to them: "What do you mean you won't be here for Thanksgiving? You know that it's your father's favorite holiday, don't you?" No, Mom, I didn't gather that from the fourteen other times you've said that in this conversation. And not only are my parents pissed at me, both my brother and sister have beef with me as well. Lord, nobody knows how hard it is to be the center of everyone's universe. But I'm afraid, dear family, this year you'll have to take a number and stand in line with the throngs of other peoples seeking my attention. Life's hard, I know.

So, there you have it. The Mind will be occupied with the trivial, rather than the sublime, over the next few weeks, but I will write again before the month's out, so you, too, will have something to be thankful for at Thanksgiving. Indeed.