Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


Rambling on the road.

Cleveland again today, but tonight I sleep in my own bed. Thank goodness. Much as I've enjoyed the hotel loveliness, there's only so much swank this white trash girl can handle. I mean, really, I know I seem all sophisticated and metropolitan, and my manners are impeccable when I want to trot them out...but I would just as soon spend the evening naked on my couch, watching action movies and swilling tequila as get gussed up and go out "fine dining." You know, to pick a hypothetical.

Meanwhile, can I share with you how much fun it is to sit in a conference room for three days, basically with my thumb up my ass doing nothing, when I could be in the office actually accomplishing something productive....yeah, it's not really any fun. The chairs are not particularly comfy, nore ergonomic for those who had the unfortunate luck to be born over 5'5" tall. On the other hand, the table is leather-topped, which appeals to my tactile nature - however, I can't spend too much time rubbing the table, or everyone else here will think I'm crazy.

Yesterday's massage has already worn off. My neck feels like it's composed primarily of ill-matched clock gears lubed up with a bucket of beach sand. Yeah, isn't that a nice mental picture?

Now imagine how that feels.


Is it wrong to hope for the end of the year already? I just dont' feel like I'm going to have any free time before then, and frankly - I'm tired of not having any free time.

You know, I say that like I am busy every second of every day - and I am actually fairly busy most of the time...but I still have time to chill out, catch on occassional movie, sit with my guitar in my living room and twiddle with chords and words until something like a song comes out...it just feels like I don't have enough.
A few months back, I felt like I didn't have enough going on. Now I feel like I have too much. Feast or famine, ain't it? Whyever is it so hard to find some middle damned ground??
Blargh. I think too much.

But then, considering this, that shouldn't be all that surprising.

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