It's Not You, It's Me. All Me.

Here's something you may not have known: my blog is suffering from a very real lack of love. Not from my faithful readers (which I hear is now up to 7, score!), but from yours truly. I can't really say why, something about being lazy probably. Or maybe it's because there's really nothing going on at the moment. The jury is still out.

In any case, I'll have updates. Glorious, awesome, hallelujah inducing updates. You're going to read my updates, poo yourself and then say, "She's right, those were some great updates. Anyone have a fresh pair of pantaloons?" Also, I've said the word update too much and now it's lost all meaning. Update.

However, tonight is Friday night and I have plans to watch movies, drink a little and not wear pants.

How do I do it? I'm very brave, that's how.

Days Like These

Today I woke up and something was off. Not bad, not good, just off. It happens occasionally. I can usually feel it coming the night before.

Sometimes I won't sleep. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, feeling like I just missed something important. Other nights, I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what it is I'm supposed to be doing. There's always that nagging feeling that I'm supposed to be doing something, that there's something I can't quite remember.

The mornings that follow such restless nights are rarely good. I swing my legs from the bed and plant my feet on the floor. I take the first step of the day and trip on nothing. I bump my elbow on the door frame and burn myself with the straightening iron. I am definitely not in sync with myself.

I don't have an explanation for days like these. Days where I'm doing nothing out of the ordinary, but there's this force and purpose behind everything that wasn't there yesterday. Simple things feel so much more significant. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion. I can see my breath and the tiny, gusts of air that follow my fingers every time they move. Nothing feels real.

I am more suspicious on days like these. I don't understand how everyone else doesn't feel what I feel and doesn't see what I see. How can one go about their business on days like these? How can a person function with such force all around them? Days like these, I can feel my chest expanding. My brain is trying to take in too much and I usually end the day with a headache.

Days like these. How curious.

Wednesday Boycott

I'm in a mood today. A terrible, face melting, punch in the head inducing mood. I went to bed tense last night and woke up with my entire body rebelling. The area between my shoulders and the small of my back insist on spasming every five minutes. Hey, guess what back of the body area-- I didn't forget that you existed. So chill the fuck out with all this spasming business and let me be. Live and let live, right?

Aside from feeling like someone sat on me all night, I'm trying to cheer myself up. It's not really working. I think it's cause I don't really want to be cheered up. I want to be angry today because I'm just that filled with rage. Karina angry, Karina smash!

So, in the spirit of being a bitch, I am officially saying that today can eat it. That's right, I declare this entire Wednesday a complete and total waste of time and effort. Eff Wednesday, in other words.

Tuesdays? I'll take it.

Thursdays? Hell yeah.

Wednesdays? Wednesdays need to roll themselves in a carpet, walk itself out to the nearest dumpster, pour a bowl of day old lo-mein on top of itself and wait to be taken to a landfill where it truly belongs. Better yet, Wednesdays can stroll on down to Uncle Tony's Footlocker, invest in a pair of nice, comfy cement shoes, walk itself down the most remote fishing harbor, take a leap in and get to know a couple of great whites. Mafia deaths are only fitting for snake in the grass Wednesdays. You think you can rely on this unassuming day of the week? You are mistaken. Wednesday is the day your car will run out of gas. It's the day you'll realize you owe money all over town. Hell, Wednesdays will sleep with your wife if you let them. They're the biggest dick of all the weekdays, besting even that dingleberry wiener Monday.

Worst of all, Wednesday blog posts are totally irrelevant.

"I thought I was coming here to read about something entertaining," you thought.

Well, guess what? It's Wednesday, and Wednesdays are assholes.

Quick (Bor-ing!) Update

Hey, remember when I said that I'd be back sometime this week? Well, that was a lie. I'm not back. In fact, this isn't even me. It's a ghost writer named, uh, Urgle Grue?

It's been a successful holiday, for the most part. I have a ton to write about and lots of pictures to post. Christmas in New Mexico was definitely a lot different than Christmases spent in Arizona. For starters, it was freezing! Oh, and there was some sort of white business all over that I heard the natives refer to as "snow". I don't know that word but I'm told that's what it's called. One cousin even told me you could eat it. Um, what? Crazy New Mexicans.

I'm heading up to Phoenix for New Years to spend it with some of the best, if not the most awesome, people I know. It should make for some good times. I'll post more about it next week. For realsies this time.