Hurry Up and Wait

I have started about 5 posts before this one. I scrapped all of them because they were shite. Not funny enough, not clever enough, not "Popey" enough...

I have since realized that it might just be my attitude that is shite. I am irritated and sick of waiting around for things to happen. I'm waiting for payday, waiting for badminton tonight, waiting for other people to post, waiting for the results of the last Sociology quiz, waiting to get back my Stats homework, waiting for grad school, waiting for lunch, waiting for Godot, waiting for this president to be gone, waiting for the war in Iraq to be over, waiting for the war in Iran to start, waiting for the Neo-Cons to ruin what is left of this nation, waiting for this day and week and semster and year, to be over.

And what am I looking forward to this weekend? Not much. Badminton is the high point. From there it kind of goes downhill; cleaning cages, laundry, dishes, homework...

SOMEone should be having fun this weekend - tell me in comments about YOUR weekend plans.

Whiny Drivel

The parts of my life are banging together again. Imagine trying to keep a feather, an origami crane, a crystal vase, two rusty tack hammers, and a steaming plate of fettuccine Alfredo all in the same sack while you hop over barbed wire fences at a dead run. When you look in, the parts are all there, but you don't want to touch any of it.

There is a very strong sense of futility in everything I'm doing right now, and yet, I can't seem to stop and find things that are more meaningful for myself. My role - that of angry guy/chief pastor to a pack of atheists and agnostics/all-around asshole - has gotten old. If I'm tired of my antics I'm sure others must be too, but once you're type-cast it's tough to get other gigs. At this point, I am in a rut bigger than Leonard Nimoy's acting career.

The temptation to say, "It's ok - I'll be applying to grad school soon, and hopefully leaving all this crap behind," is very real, but the problem there is that I will take all of this with me. Same show, different stage.

So what is the solution? If I knew, this would be a Sunday Sermon, with a snappy title and better organizational structure - not a half-assed, half-edited pity party on a Tuesday afternoon. No, there is no handy solution to this emo-funk I find myself in. I wouldn't even really take note of it except that it is off schedule; I usually don't get this pissy until later in the academic year. My patented "Black February" is fairly famous in these parts, so I'm surprised to find that I feel all emptied out in October. Early October, even.

In an ironic bit of perfect timing, a friend just IMed me a Goth Names link. Turns out mine is "Demented Whore."