Where do I begin?

It's amazing that my life is so damn full right now, yet I don't know what to write about. I guess part of it is that I enjoy holding my writing up to a certain standard (believe it or not) and at this point I feel as though I will fall woefully short of cohesion. Therefore, I will provide my loyal readers with what I hope will be a somewhat entertaining and illuminating update on the various tidbits of life which I currently have on my plate...

-We spent 5 hours in the emergency room last night; from midnight until 5 this morning. The Good Guy has some weird pain that won't go away, and the doctors can't seem to figure out the problem. We have no health insurance, so he's minimizing his participation in a number of tests they're offering forth. Great, juuust great. I worry. It's a trait passed on from my mother who would constantly lecture me that I needed to call if I was going to be late, because 1 minute past the moment I was due to arrive home she'd have visions of me dead in a ditch somewhere. So, as we were dressing to go to the hospital, it was The Good Guy (the one who's sick and in pain) who was consoling me that it would be alright. Sometimes I am such. a. chick.

-The kids should (legally and rightfully) be with us tonight but their mother is holding them hostage. It would be small and petty of me to use any of the numerous adjectives and expletives that come to mind when I think of her lately, so I'll refrain (besides, The Good Guy reads my blog and he wouldn't appreciate my choices).

-I turned in my thesis! Sadly, it's total crap. It is by far the worst piece of written work I have put my name on since returning to school. I had a great concept, but I couldn't seem to find an eloquent manner in which to pull it off. So, I gave a half assed presentation and turned in an atrocious piece of research. My final paper does not by any means make it obvious that I read about a billion articles on the subjects of art therapy, adolescents, at-risk youth, group homes, drama therapy, writing therapy and the use of all of those therapy approaches with adolescents. I shudder to think that my 4.0 GPA is in jeopardy at the end of my fourth semester after working my ass off for two years. But, it is what it is, and in the long run, what will a 4.0 vs. a 3.9 get me? A higher paying job?-No. Sometimes my perfectionism is simply a means for my genetically inferior stomach to cause me pain via self induced stress. It's just plain stupid.

-The lyrics to a Tori Amos song popped into my head this evening at work as another waitress PISSED. ME. OFF! "I want to kill this waitress..." I could hear Ms. Amos pleading with me, "If I did it fast, you know that's an act of kindness..." The details of the incident are too tedious and uninteresting to spell out, but rest assured that I was in the right and she was totally wrong. By the end of the night, the high and mighty witch apoligized, but my respect level for her has taken a tremendous nose dive.

So...I guess I need to work on FORGIVENESS in keeping with my bettering of myself mantra.

Oooh! My next post will be about my decision to expand my wardrobe and accessorize! Simple, yet exciting. And I'll bet I can maintain both cohesion and entertainment value within the confines of that subject. Stay Tuned!