I don't believe the price of gold, the certainty of growing old..

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August 20

Ack. urgh. Blargh. blech.

That pretty well sums up my week...heck, my month. Highlights include:

Work-related hullabaloo/shakeup that resulted in my department losing two production editors. Now it's down to me and one assistant to handle 112 books in the middle of season, many of which are already late. Mein Gott!
Random illness, trip to the doctor, antibiotics. What fun.
Bouncing some checks out of sheer stupidity. Must be the heat intefering with my basic math skills, there.
The Gigantic Blackout. Actually, in comparison to the rest of my month, not so bad. Our fridge needed defrosting anyway.
Paying rent late (see no. 3)
Not making any progress whatsoever on my Tour de Testosterone project, or any other writing project to speak of, this page included. I have a book I want to write, but with work going nuclear, I expect the occasional update here will be the most I can manage.
Schlepping two heavy bags of books to The Strand to sell, just to get them out of the house, and finding out that hey, "they don't buy books on Sunday." Oh, they're OPEN. They just don't buy books that day. Because they don't feel like it. Thanks for nothing, jerks. Note to Half Price Books: Get here soon! (The Strand is a pet peeve of mine anyway. People rave about it, when it's dark, dirty, overcrowded, the books are placed on shelves you need ladders to use, and they're just, in general, meh. I have been spoiled by the glories of Half Price, and I want them to come here and kick The Strand's butt.)

On the upside, when our cable came back on we suddenly had Comedy Central, and now I can give my love to the Daily Show, the only real news show out there. Jon Stewart would be my cute snarky boyfriend if I didn't already had one at home just like him.

Speaking of liberal snark, Matt and I went to see Tom Tomorrow speak and sign his new book tonight. That helped ease the sting of my crappy day. That and the low-carb beer and low-carb cheesecake waiting for me. Think I'll go and take advantage of that right now. Later, taters.

August 8

The reflection in my mirror is changing, slowly, but it's changing. The weight may still take a while to go away all together, but it is leaving.

For a long time, I wasn't losing at all. Some part of me fought against the diet, even though (maybe because) it worked. I would sabotage myself, eat what I shouldn't, even if I didn't want it, not take the vitamins. Probably, there is some psychological self-esteem personal baggage type of reason behind it. I won't claim that I've settled all the old issues in my life. But the last few weeks, strange to say, it just got a little easier. Failures stopped feeling like the end of the world, success stopped being the one thing I would never find.

Right now, I'm listening to sweet, old country music from my childhood. "I Believe in You," by Don Williams is playing at the moment. It's somewhat sappy, kinda hippy-dippy 70s stuff. But then I've been feeling a little battered lately, and warm and silly seems to fit the bill. Ooh, now it's "Harper Valley PTA." Is it wrong to know all the words to this by heart?

Next week will be my year anniversary at my current job, and I think I've just now started to relax. My two previous jobs were just so incredibly horrible that I've been in a kind of numb shock all this time. Post Traumatic Job Disorder. It's taken me this long not to still expect people to flip out for no good reason, or start screaming over some imagined problem. I mean, I had over two years of that, walking around with your shoulders hunched and waiting for the knife in your back. How did I stand it?

This job isn't perfect, of course, it has its stresses. But honestly, compared to the places I used to work, every day here's a day at the beach. Everyone here seems to be sane, relatively well-adjusted, and even pleasant.

In fact, this job reminds me of my first real job at Borders, the only other job I've had that I truly enjoyed. If it wasn't for the fact that you just can't live on a bookseller's salary, I might still be there. (And boy, I still miss my monthly book discount and the chance to check out new releases whenever I wanted.)

Enough work talk. I would break it up with talk about what it's like here in August, but there isn't much to tell. Climb into a dumpster that's been sitting in the sun, and take a deep whiff. Yeah, that's just what every other breeze smells like right now. Mmm, stewed garbage. But fall is on its way, and back home, it's 107 degrees to our 86. So I guess I can curb the griping and breathe through my mouth until fall shows up.

I don't believe in superstars,
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

But I believe in love.
I believe in music.
I believe in magic.
And I believe in you.

Well, I know with all my certainty,
What's going on with you and me,
Is a good thing.
It's true, I believe in you.

I don't believe virginity,
Is as common as it used to be.
In working days and sleeping nights,
That black is black and white is white.
That Superman and Robin Hood,
Are still alive in Hollywood.
That gasoline's in short supply,
The rising cost of getting by.

But I believe in love.
I believe in old folks.
I believe in children.
I believe in you.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.