13 February 2008

O-V-E-R-I-T

On my computer is a ticket to Dublin waiting to be purchased. On my floor sits a pile; my taxes waiting to be done.

On an agent’s desk sits my manuscript, waiting to be read. A script waits in an envelope to be delivered to a producer. In Word and FinalDraft, stories are waiting to be completed. And, somewhere in the ether, a future is waiting to hatch.

In my closet are clothes I can’t wait to fit into again; on my butt is book weight I can’t wiat to lose. On my calendar, there are dates waiting to be made. On my nightstand, books are waiting to be read. My voicemail and email inbox hold people waiting to hear from me.

As I wait for my hair to grow, I wonder if I should cut new bangs, or simply let the old ones keep going...or just whack it all off for the hell of it.

Something needs to happen. Anything. Well, anything positive. I’ve learned my lesson tempting fate. I am just so effing bored with everything.

While I don’t mind the rain, I’m sick of the cold. I’m ready for Spring. And, yes, I’ve capitalized the S. I need not only the weather but the action of Spring. Newness. Light. Warmth. Growth.

I don’t know what this malaise is. Age? That time of year (still burnt from last and waiting for this one to get going)? Limiting bank account? Semi-vegan diet? Whatever it is, I am done. Can’t be bothered. I’ve had enough.

It’s not as though my short fuse has gotten even more stubby. I’m not angrier. I’m not bitchier (that would be difficult to manage). It’s not more of something; it’s less. Patience. Perhaps it apathy. But, occasionally, I am utterly stunned.

Are there still chicks out there who think the I’m-helpless-can’t-figure-that-out-by-myself routine works? Maybe it does...on people with penises. But, I am a vagina-clad. A feminist to boot. I actually think that with a little effort and perseverance anyone can figure anything out. And that will do more for one’s self-esteem than any boob job, Botox shot, or short skirt. Ugh.

And, could someone please explain why some people (usually dudes) are determined to back into a parking space? I watched a guy spend nearly three minutes attempting to back his $50,000 BMW into a spot (an end spot, mind you, so he had no obstacle on one side). My friend and I stood there witnessing his inability with growing curiosity. Finally, I said to him, “You know, it will go faster if you just pull into it going forward.” He laughed with a hint of embarrassment. On his fifth try (that I saw), he finally made it, but he was still outside one line. If the theory is that one can pull out faster, the backing in cancels that out, especially in a slanted spot in which the driver would be headed against traffic. Those parkers are my favorites. Dorks.

I don’t know what it is, but whatever it may be, I’m just O-V-E-R-I-T.

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