I was at Starbucks last night, closing. I was heating up my stoffers dinner in the microwave. I also had a caesar salad to get my greens from having opened at Apple. Having worked both jobs, eight hours each, in the same day. It occured to me that my life consists mostly of frozen dinners and retail. And if it were not for all of those wonderful and lovely people in my personal life, I would probably cry every morning upon removing myself from bed, in the dark, as that has been the necessary time for me to rise, as of late.

And, by the way, Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays to all of you three people that read this! Be thankful!

I was attempting to get on the escalator yesterday.
A lady bumped into me, a little confused, blocking my entrance.
"I am sorry," she said, "I can't decide where I am going."
Me too, I thought to myself.

I got a sandwich at chik-fil-a. Wheat bun. No pickles. So they put a bright orange sticker on the package to let me know I am special. I thought that was sweet.

I am working now. I work too much at two jobs that don't really stir up anything authentic inside of me. Yesterday when I was eating eggs and an english muffin, because it was the only food in my house, I was hoping that the eggs were bad from the warm refrigerator I had during the ice storm, and that I would get salmonella poisoning so that I would be able to call both the jobs and tell them I wouldn't be able to make it. I think that's a good indication that something needs to change.