The world we live in.

Constacia, my beloved '96 Pontiac Grand Prix, is in a bad way. The poor thing's starter is dead, and I had to have her towed to Reverend Momma's hood, far far away. In the process of doing so, I had to push that car down through the Green Hills theatre's parking garage. In the process, I jammed two fingers and wrenched my right leg, and it hurts like a motherfucker. So I have muscular trauma and car repairs to deal with in the morning before I head to work.

On the good news side of things, I saw The X-Files movie tonight (review coming shortly), and it's good. It will do nothing for people who don't deeply care about Mulder and Scully, but if you do, it will make you beam, occasionally awkward dialogue and all.

Time to go sleepy. Something big tomorrow, though.

The world we live in, or things that are grinding me down this month.

I find times trying currently.

The heat doesn't help things.

It seems that 50% of the jobs I am currently associated with (there are four) are in the kind of tumultuous state of flux that sends the weak-kneed running and the stout of constitution headlong into certain death. I am neither.

I readily confess that for me to wail about the lack of stability in my own circumstances is paying short shrift to a lot of the terrifying shit going on in the world; considering climate crisis, Iraq, and the simultaneously boring and wrenching game of Risk we're calling the 2008 presidential election, and another looming Madonna divorce, where do I get off complaining about my own footing being shaken?

Well, this is the blogosphere, and self-interest is a vital and necessary part of that as well.

I hate punishingly hot weather. I hate the fact that I'm not discovering anything new and grounded in strength about myself due to the ongoing petroleum crisis.
I hate charities. More than that, I hate charities that are part of corporations. Even more than that, I hate when soliciting charitable donations becomes something compulsory. I hate boards of directors. I hate my neighbors' dogs. I hate higher-ups who at best do not understand the day-to-day operations of the real world and who at worst just don't give a fuck about anyone else. I hate the smell of cat boxes.

I am not good at holding things together.

I am not good at offering false hope.

I am thankful for the scientific greatness of medicine to obliterate doubt.

I will have a better day tomorrow.