I read recently they’re creating new Futurama episodes. At first I was excited, but after some consideration…well, I don’t think I feel all that great about it. I was sad when the show ended, but can they keep it as good? Can it carry on in fine form or will it limp along in pathetic and disappointing fashion?
sigh. I don’t know, I just don’t know.
I’m fretting. My optimism is low. I’m sure they’ll ruin it, like they ruin everything.
One of Ry’s favorite books is called The Belly Button Book, about a bunch of hippos and their belly b’s. It is also one of my favorites, if only for this lovely passage:
We don’t do much throughout the day.
That’s how we like it best.
We nibble grapes.
We watch the waves.
We take a little rest.
Those hippos. My kind of people.
Having a kid is great and all, but he sure is a time suck, let me tell you. Everything I do during the day is with him, for him, because of him. And I only have one kid, a not quite part-time job, and the kid’s father to share the burden. I have no idea how parents of multiple children, single parents, and dual-income families manage. I am in major awe of their abilities and their successes. If I had to work full-time, or if gdawg was not around, I would fail miserably at being a mom, and I’m not doing that great of a job as it is.
It’s all my fault. I’m just too self-involved I guess, because it drives me nuts every single second of the day that I don’t have more me time. Pre-Ry, I never had enough time for me. In this new era, I see what a luxurious and stunning life I once had.
I feel like I am always busy, even though I’m never seemingly doing anything important; nothing culturally, socially, economically significant. It’s overwhelming to say the least, and while I don’t resent Ry or my role as his mother, I could sure use some non-mom awakening. I used to be involved in things. I did, I know I did. I can’t remember what things, but I was certainly involved. I used to care. I used to want to have fun and see other people and share and explore and learn; venture out at night, past 9pm, to places other than grocery stores and pharmacies.
What is interesting to me now? What do I feel passionate about? What new music, great books, or peculiar people am I investing myself in? I have no idea.
Here’s something: everything I own is being stored in the garage of Gordon’s mother’s house, until we are able to move into our place (yes, we’re still waiting to move in). Well, today, we discovered that a pipe in that garage had sprung a leak. Yes, I’m lucky it wasn’t a toilet pipe. But it is the drain for the kitchen, so icky smelly food water soaked a bunch of my boxes, ruining quite a bit and generally making just a huge nasty mess. I had to throw away a lot of shit, which is a good thing I suppose, as less shit = better life; but being forced to throw something away because of a fucking broken drain and choosing to throw something away because I know I need to simplify are quite different.
The world is just driving me insane. I’m being pulled in eighteen different directions and I’m ready to snap. Outside the normal demands of everyday life, I’ve got four very demanding, needy people constantly vying for my attention, and while four may not seem like a lot to you, I am on the edge, man, the edge.
Those of you unsure, the four people in question are: the kid, the boyfriend, the boyfriend’s mother, and myself.
At work, the building manager has posted little signs that people are no longer allowed to smoke on the steps at the front or rear entrances, and to please keep their dirty shameful habit to themselves. Ha ha, no the sign says to please smoke in the picnic bench area in the parking lot. It doesn’t really affect me, I’m not a smoker. The people smoking on the steps never bothered me either, but I guess other tenants in the building have complained, hence the new no smoking signs.
At first, when I saw the sign, I felt kind of bad for the smokers. It’s not like the workers would blow smoke directly in your face as you entered the building. I didn’t see a problem.
I don’t particularly like smoking or cigarettes, but all this backlash against those who do has gotten a bit crazy. I’m just waiting for the day when they won’t even be allowed to smoke outside, in the open air. It reminds me of that south park episode, where all the smokers in the town were ridiculed and harassed, people shouting derogatory epithets at them like “tarlungs.” very funny. Plus you know, enough with the signs. jeez.
So, I felt sorry for them, at first. Poor smokers. They are so reviled. But when I walked outside to put some mail in the box just now, there was a guy on the front steps smoking. Right next to the sign telling smokers to not smoke there.
And for some reason, it really irritated me. Yeah, it sucks that you have to go smoke in the parking lot, but that’s what the owner of the building has decided, and it’s his property to make such decisions. And who the hell does this smoker think he is anyway? The sign is for EVERYONE ELSE, but he’s special. He doesn’t have to listen or follow the rules. He can make up his own set of rules and everyone else be damned.
So now I don’t feel sorry for the smokers, because of assholes like him who are above it all.
And I realized that this “I’ll do whatever I feel like” attitude is what really frustrates me about smokers. Littering is probably at the top of my “most hated” list. And smokers think that somehow their precious little cigarette butts don’t constitute as litter. That they can throw those nasty stubs anywhere they want, it doesn’t matter, it’s their personal RIGHT and DUTY to drown the world with them. I’m not saying all smokers do this, but most of them do, the ones I’ve seen anyway, and the sheer amount of cigarette butts on the grounds EVERYWHERE YOU GO is proof enough for me that the majority of smokers are ignorant jerks who think they can fling their trash wherever they feel.
In summation, on one hand I’m annoyed that people can’t do whatever they want; on the other, I’m annoyed that people do whatever they want. I’m such a mess of annoyance and contradiction, I don’t know what to do with myself.
I guess mostly I just don’t want people treating the world like their own personal trash receptacle. Although really, does it matter if the trash is on the ground or in a bag somewhere in a landfill? I just don’t want to have to SEE it I guess.
I’m such an asshole.