I'm not even sure why I stopped to write this comment on my blog... oh well, you can all take a lesson... anyone who is reading this.. just smile and nod. I won't know the difference.

I don't blame the companies for wanting to invent holidays. I just wish that we could add our own. I'd like to add a "Take your Favorite Slacker to Lunch Day" or a "National Underpaid Graduate Student's Day". I'm sure I could find a way to cash in on both of these holidays.

While I was visiting Rome, I heard that the Romans had a buttload of holidays every year. I don't remember the exact number, but, I want to say it was over 200... and this was in a society without the added productivity of computers. I bet we could meet and exceed their standard if we all tried hard enough. I'll start with today... Today can be "Write a Bad Blog Entry Day". Or, for those who don't want to write a blog entry, I'm sure we can accomodate you with a "Write a Bad Blog Comment Day".

"The term Indigo child has been coined to describe the new breed of children that have come to this planet to assist us in evolving humanity. The characteristics of the Indigo child may include those usually born in 1978 or later, strong willed, headstrong, creative, with an artistic flair for music, jewelry making, poetry, etc., prone to addictions, an "old soul" as if they are 13 going on 43, often labeled as ADD or ADHD, intuitive or psychic, possibly with a history of seeing angels or deceased loved ones, an isolationist, either through aggressive acting out, or through fragile introversion, independent and proud, even if they're constantly asking you for money, possesses a deep desire to help the world in a big way, wavers between low self-esteem and grandiosity, bores easily, prone to insomnia, restless sleep, nightmares, or difficulty/fear of falling asleep, has a history of depression, or even suicidal thoughts or attempts, looks for real, deep, and lasting friendships, and easily bonds with plants or animals. (Carroll/Tober) "

So... apparently, higher states of consciousness involve being a complete pain in the ass. I always wondered what my problem was. I'm just advanced.

I'm not resting up for greatness... I'm just resting. This is what lazy people do in order to make themselves feel better about being a total bum. We tell ourselves that something important is going to happen... and it must be just around the corner. When that day comes, I will be rested and awake. I have had the sleep of ten men (or women... I don't want to appear sexist).

I have extended this piece of wisdom to all areas of my life. From homework to financial planning, this is the philosophy that keeps me in motion. If I didn't have the option of doing a half-assed job, I may never work on anything ever again. I'd be content just to sit in a lazy stupor for the rest of my life.

What surprises me the most about this tactic (particularly in work situations) is how often it passes for pure genius.

I'm not sure I actually have much to say now, but, certainly more than I did last week. The irony is that my job is to think. I am paid to use my noodle. I'm afraid that if I can't think of enough things to write about on this blog, then, I will surely starve in a few more years.

So, what do I have to say today? Well, it's mostly an observation. My professor should never have submitted my final grade before receiving the source code to my independent research project. I'm not sure he would feel the same way about the grade he gave me when he notices that it took me 10 weeks to make a 20 line code change. Oh well, I can still argue that those are 20 amazing lines of code... which they are, of course.

My second musing for the day is about politics. I have been trying to avoid using this blog as a platform for me to spout all my left-wing propaganda. So, I'll just have to keep this musing to myself. If you really want to know what it is... I'll just have to say that it has something to do with that drinking game, "Presidents and Assholes". I didn't invent that drinking game, but, I sure do appreciate it.

Thank you, God Bless, and God Bless the United States.

There... That's what's going on with me.

So, I think I felt better when I felt like crap. At least, then, I didn't have so many delusions that everything was going well in my life. If you always feel like crap, then, all the not-so-crappy things are just pleasant surprises... right?

I think the mistake was being happy for a while. But, it's been corrected. Luckily, I feel like crap again.

I am reminded of a story I read somewhere about a couple.... let's call them Ken and Barbie. Right after the wedding, Barbie found out that Ken was out on bail for armed robbery, was already married, had a son with a history of arson, and that he had taken out $250,000 in life insurance on her at their wedding reception. I guess it's safe to say that they didn't have a very pleasant honeymoon. I cannot remember where I first heard this story, but, I apologize to whoever it was... It serves as a constant reminder to me of everything that my marriage isn't.

So, I suppose it can always be worse.... in which case, I suppose I'll forgive my husband for not doing the dishes last night.... this time, anyway.

None of this namby-pamby rich stuff... I would be rich, the *right* way. If they can't be rich correctly, I don't think they deserve to keep all that money to themselves.

Then again, I would probably just end up sitting around on my ass all day, watching television, and eating. Ahhhh, the good life.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, kids. I'm picking up some lottery tickets on the way home and I sure do feel lucky.

This blog needs entries. Gawd knows I have more than enough stuff to say. Anyone who knows me can attest to my ability to rant for hours about anything. I love to rant... and as a responsible person, I should feed my blog with entries. Why even have a blog if I'm not going to use it? My inner utilitarian cannot abide by this disgraceful display of laziness and disuse.

So, this is me... I'm writing an entry. Write write write... this is me ranting. Fun fun fun. I like to write. Rant rant rant.

So, I took the chance of drawing more attention to my deformity and decided to pull it. It's hard to be nonchalant while you're trying to pull a two inch mutant hair out of your neck. Not to mention, it was much harder to pull it than I thought it would be. That sucker must have sensed that I was trying to excise it from my neck, and, latched on for dear life. Gross.

But, I was victorious. I am no longer plagued with that mutant hair. Now, I'm only plagued by the idea that there must surely be more. How can I walk around knowing that I have mutant hair growing out of my neck? Someone please give me a tranquilizer. This mutant hair stress is freaking me out.

And now... I feel dirty. I feel really really dirty... even though, I didn't buy anything. Somehow, that's even worse. That was shopping for sport, for pleasure... rather than with reason.

I have never been a big shopper. I usually shop with a purpose... find the most utilitarian thing in the store and make a beeline out the door. Or, like most people I know, I just get hand-me-downs from siblings or friends.

So, where did this urge come from? How could someone who has never once been concerned about finding that perfect little bag to match those cute little shoes suddenly be struck dumb and be compelled to join the masses at my local shopping mall?

I haven't actually decided who to blame yet, but, I'll figure it out. Someone or something should be responsible for my shame.