30 days of me

It doesn't take long for me to become a lazy, lazy girl.
I've had a whole week off of working out and I feel butterflies of terror when I think about practice tonight.
"It's going to be cold."
"My nose will be all stuffy."
"I am going to be sore."
"What if a lung collapses?"
"What if I am still sweating alcohol stank?"

All of these are distinct possibilities, except for the lung item and so that's probs the one that's actually going to happen, right?

I have determined that my next gig is going to be in a hospital.
I could go in one of three directions with my budding career.
As per usual, I am going to seek out the option where I make the least mount of money and where the benefits are only standard.
Hopefully, I'll only have a week of paid vacation and maybe Thanksgiving off.

When there is a choice, I tend to gravitate to the one that's dearest to my heart and a wild hair of a creative idea that leads me to believe I will take Option A and the result will open a thousand doors, behind each of which is no evil - only princes and bars of gold and Nerds Rope.

Historically, this is never the case and I end up resenting the idea that I could pay some dues and get a little further by taking the long way to where I want to be.

Anyway, maybe I'll sell out after all and go make way too much money for what I do all day.
that is not the case now but it could be if I were to move back to halfway across the country and make a slight adjustment to the type of business where I'm employed.

But this is how you get fired.
Hey Current Office?
I'm not moving anytime soon!
I'm here!
Did you get that last fan letter from a satisfied customer?

Although I do get so.... fed up with my clients that often, I sit at my desk and I hear myself thinking in Samuel L. Jackson's Pulp Fiction voice: "I'm'bout to open.
a mutha fuckin' file!!!"
Then I accidentally go to the wrong thing, and have to go all the way back through major files to get to what I really need. "I just can NOT believe this! THIS! NOW!"
Moin, shut the FUCK up, ya ain't nevah gonna be nuttin' but a 'ho."

Yeah, so then I'm schizophrenically caught up in some more violent black-man-in-the-movies-voices running through my head and I have to shake it off, remembering that:
A. I am a White Girl. I look sort of ethic, in a questionably Jewish way or maybe Black Irish but SarahStar is Suburban.
B. I am not Terrance Howard in Hustle and Flow.

No really, I did just get back from vacation. My burn-out is.... deep. And I have no sex life.

I'm reading this book and it's all, "Dude, YOU are a PERSON."
No shit?
And yet, like anything New Agey and hipped out, I can make all the fun of it you can imagine but I still am reading it and while I'm in the act of reading it, I'm raptured by the idea that I am a PERSON.


There really isn't anything sexy to talk about today but I got suckered into NaBloPoMo, to which I am unable to link.
The deal is I have to write every day for 30 days, even weekends.

So off I go, to the Idea Notebook!

Prepare to be amazed.

arizonasarah at 10:45 a.m.

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