I will not look away from this screen until I actually post something. It’s been almost a month and, though I will scrabble to find something to say, I will post.

(Twenty minutes have passed since that sentence and still…nothing.)

All that I’m coming up with is some remaining aggravation from playing darts last night. Losing was a bit annoying, yes, but that’s not where my aggravation lies. My message to those who play soft-tip darts is this: if you think what you are doing with your little plastic darts and your electronic dart board with triples the size of freeway lanes actually requires skill, well, then I guess you’re dumber than you look. I suppose my aggravation stems mainly from the woman who, all dressed up to play soft-tip darts at a really crappy bar, felt the need to play $10 worth of the Dixie Chicks last night and then leave and make the rest of us listen to it. My bleeding ears made it very difficult for me to refrain from drinking.

Speaking of which, I’ve only drank one time in the last six weeks which is perhaps why I have absolutely nothing to say about the last month.

So I finally saw Social Distortion in concert last week. The experience was all but overshadowed by the drama that is going anywhere with JS. After a day full of see-sawing about whether or not she was going to go to the show (her baby had a temperature), she finally decides that she wants to go. So we go. We drink. We watch The Explosion and Tiger Army. She stands there like Eeyore on an especially shitty day. I ask her repeatedly if she’s ok only to get a Mother Theresa-like “Noooo….” She looks terrified of the 90-pound preteen girls with mohawks and repeatedly comments that she feels extremely out of place and should not have come.

Then, mere moments before SD is to take the stage, the tears come. She wants to go home and be with her baby… I’m going to stop this story right there before more nastiness spews forth. The story has an ok ending anyway. I ended up finding B. Jeff at the concert and had a great time with him.

The show itself was incredible. Mike Ness is still amazing. Yes, he’s gotten a little soft (I mean physically, not musically), and maybe a tad fleshy, and perhaps he should reconsider the wife-beater and the eye-liner that smudged way too quickly as he began to sweat, but then he sings… They opened with Ring of Fire and played a pretty predictable set (much like their newly released live DVD) with only a few glaring omissions. I think they could’ve done away with Ball and Chain (yeah, every one knows it, but it’s not one of their best songs). I also would’ve preferred 99 to Life over Prison Bound, and I don’t think they played a single song from White Light, White Heat, White Trash (hello…where was Don’t Drag Me Down?). The new stuff sounded great (I think Don’t Take Me For Granted might make it into my top ten SD songs), and then of course they closed with Story of My Life…hands down the best SD song that there is.

So that was probably the highlight of October. I’ll refrain from other topics such as LJ, bridesmaid dress shopping and the like only because I am trying desperately to keep the bile from completely taking over this journal.

In other news, due to my general discontentedness with just about everything in my life, I’ve decided to continue to run it into the ground. No, I’m not going back to the drugs (darn!) but have instead decided to pursue the free JD. Actually, looking at those two little letters next to one another ceases to make me dry heave. Perhaps by the time I put them after my name I will have become accustomed to them. I’m taking the LSAT next month, and am still trying to figure out what the big brew-ha is about that little test, because it really seems pretty simple to me. I haven’t scored less than a 165 on any of the practice tests, and have peaked at 176.

I predict some issues with my “personal statement” and am wondering if I can just pay someone to write it for me. I foresee something like… “well…I have nothing better to do” and “I’ve worked with a lot of attorneys…I f***ing hate attorneys, so yes, I hate myself” and perhaps a “Do I turn into an asshole BEFORE or AFTER graduation?” But hey, I guess it’s something to do, right? Otherwise I’ll still be complaining about the same things ten years from now and will still not be doing anything about it.

Today? I plan all 120 of the work-allotted voting minutes to take off early and vote not five minutes from the office. Yes I am shady. Maybe the JD is the right way to go after all. I expect to, at some point, sit in front of the television and scream profanity at it (Bush will win, I feel it in my teeth), and pack up more things. Yes, I’ve finally gotten around to it. His clothes are out of the closet now. The animal remains are off of the mudroom walls. The pictures are off of the walls. It’s been what, two years minus 17 days? It still feels too soon, somehow. I miss him so much lately. Sometimes I forget what a good friend he was until I really need one.