Friday, January 28, 2011


Lately, I've found that the only times I'm okay with my life are the times when I'm not actually doing any living. What I'm okay with is watching Dexter (or The Office), knitting, obsessively checking my e-mail, and sometimes reading. Escapism.

It's something I think I've always dealt with. When I was in high school, I was obsessed with Lord of the Rings. Total LotR geek. I tried to learn Elvish, wrote fanfiction, had pictures of Orlando Bloom posted all over my locker... I wanted to live in Tolkien's world so badly that it hurt sometimes.

I won't say that has gone away. Just been repressed. Mostly.

Things haven't really changed since high school, except - I suppose - for the other worlds I'm throwing myself into. I write. So naturally I delve into that world. (I'd say I think about writing, and/or the world I've invented, about 40% of the time. When you think of all the things you think about in your day-to-day life, that's a pretty big percentage.) Recently, I've been watching a lot of Dexter. Since Miami is a real place (and a really humid one, at that), I don't often fantasize about being transported there. But I do love escaping into the plot lines of Dexter's world. (Very intense!) Escapism takes up most of my time. I'm either participating in it, or wishing I was.

I have a real problem with facing reality.

I have also developed a problem with hanging out alone in my apartment. Today, I went to Walmart for a padded envelope. When I got there, I wandered around forever - IN WALMART, people! - simply because I didn't want to go home and face the loneliness.

Needless to say, when I did come home, it was with rather more than just a padded envelope. (Pudding, peanuts, and Spongebob fruit snacks! yay!)

Where am I going with this?

Seriously, I don't really know.

All I know is that the world I'm escaping from is a scary place, and I wish I could do more to be far from it. My Ultimate Plan: a cabin, in the woods, near a lake, with my husband, some pets, and lots of books and music. My Hermit Sanctuary. Someday, it will be mine.

Until then, it's you and me, Dexter.

Oh god. I just realized. Dexter is my new Legolas! HA!

Just a Warning

I am whiny.

Very, very whiny.

In fact, whining is probably all you'll ever hear from me. It's a talent, really, and one cannot cultivate true talent without practice.

Believe me, I am well-practiced.

You do have to give me a little bit of credit, though. I have some valid things to bitch about. (Not that everyone else doesn't, I suppose. ) For one, I live in Minnesota. And in Minnesota at the moment, it is winter. Have you ever seen a Minnesotan winter? If you have, then you understand. If you have not... 

Also, you need to imagine -16 degree temperatures and 30 mph winds, if you can. If you can do that, you now know what it is like to live in Minnesota this time of year.

Can you blame me for not having the sunniest disposition at the moment? Huh? Can you?

Other things I often rant about are: 1) my husband is in the Navy (currently residing in San Diego), and it is much more of a pain in the ass than I ever realized, 2) the inspiration, ambition and work ethic that I just do not have, and 3) people in general. (I find people to be, for the most part, an unpleasant and unavoidable part of not being the hermit I have always dreamed of being.)

(I often fantasize about being a hermit, by the way. It's what I want to be when I grow up.)

If you do decide to read whatever nonsense I start spouting out, I would advise you not to a) tell me I whine too much (I already know this. To inform me would just be redundant.) or b) try to point out the bright side of life (I realize there probably is one. Most of what I say is facetious ranting. If it bothers you, don't read it. You won't hurt my feelings.) By not doing these things, you are saving all of us precious time. Time that could be spent doing much more productive things. Like watching Dexter. Or eating. Or something else.

Yes. Well. That's about all I have to say about that.

To sum up: I am whiny... and kind of a bitch. Sometimes.

Consider yourself warned.