I can't believe it. I must be insane. I am applying to take the West Virginia Bar Exam. I will begin studying again, while trying to work and find a real job. As if I do not have enough to do with not keeping up with the housework, doing these sidejobs for Kenn's sister, and getting behind on my reading and laundry. And not working out. Oh, well, I wouldn't be me if I didn't bite off more than I can chew. Where was that gum? I can't even keep up with the everyday stuff when I have nothing else to do, so how can I accomplish anything when I have real tasks to accomplish with real deadlines? Answer: I won't. No biggie.

Okay, so I met with this former producer from PBS about my screenplay. He had a few tips for cutting out stage direction right off the bat. Other than that, I have to wait for him to read the whole thing for his opinion. I know it needs to be edited and severely shortened, but right now I'm still too close to it to do this. I must get all this and a re-consolidation of my student loans finished before next Friday-- My own personal New Year's Day. Ten years out of high school and only paperwork to show for it. No tangible accomplishments.

I can see it all-- at my ten-year reunion, there will be all of these people who believe that those of us who have not procreated and contributed to the overpopulation of this world have not accomplished as much as they have. And then there will be the obvious success stories. And then there I am. Just me. Not wanting to be there-- only there because my husband wants me there. Hating everything about the place, and not caring who has done what. And it will probably be in the high school cafeteria again. I will be the chick standing by the chips and dip, binging and avoiding everyone else.

Those of you who will be there, take the hint. If I have not made any effort to contact you in the past ten years, or acknowledged you in any way, then do not come between me and the chips. If I have made it a point to keep in touch, it is still probably a dangerous move to come between me and the chips. I need to run to the grocery store. I'm pretty hungry. Oh, and do not even ask about any Mini-Hoopers. There are none. And the job? I work. 'Nuff said. Married? Yes. Four years now. Live in Pittsburgh. Are we quite finished? Sister? She's right over there. Ask her yourself. Other sister? Ask the one over there, I'm a bit preoccupied with the chips. Degrees? I have some. Funny stories? Nah. Have I changed? Probably. I'm taller now. How am I? Well, I'm stuck inside of Elkview with the Pittsburgh Blues again. So who are you and what are you doing? Oh, and I'm not the DD tonight. No, I'm not drinking, but I'm not hauling around a bunch of drunk-ass bastards tonight. I'm here to eat and observe. You tell me stuff. I'm not talking. Bye.

Now that that is out of the way, I feel like I've said all I need to say, and I can go peacefully to this reunion. I hope there will be chips. If not, I'm sunk.

Sorry to bore you with the pointless meanderings and imangined conversations that I have invented to keep me from working on the stuff I ought to be doing.