Why would I lie -- just to get by?

I have a new user icon. Andrew from While You Were Out! I haven't quite figured out what mood of entries he represents, but right now it's in honor of my new hobby I discovered: following the career of Teresa Strasser. I found her website and turns out she has a syndicated column that isn't horrible. I mean, I certainly don't agree with everything she surmises, but she gets major bonus points for publishing a press clip of an article called Will Teresa Strasser be my fag hag?.

I love how last night it took nearly three hours to learn how to turn on my computer, make a dozen attempts to register it and get free dial-up (all of the unsuccessful), sync up my iPod, and import two albums. This morning, in fifteen minutes flat, I managed to get online, check e-mail, upload four CD's, sync my camping to-do list into my iPod, and make an off-the-cuff "Morning Mix" for the train ride. I'm not sure if the computer needed a good night's sleep or I did.

Last night was a little frustrating for lots of little reasons, including an incident that caused a nasty leash rope burn on my neck. No, not like that. Sophie decided to leap out of the car into traffic in pursuit of a neighborhood dog and when I yanked on it to keep her from getting killed by a car, it somehow got mixed up around a seat belt and other complicated twists tha basically ended wrapping around the right side of my neck. Last night while lying in bed talking, I felt it tingling and burning still and was going to ask Lowenstein for some sort of creme but I just didn't want to get out of bed.

Sophie was so ornery and annoying and bratty last night and I'm not sure who started it -- was I cranky first so she fed off of it, or did her behavior make me crankier? I thought she'd be better this morning, but then I got a call informing me that she peed on the rug, apparently in the three minutes I was in the bathroom this morning washing my face and applying deodorant. After that call, she almost seemed to know she was in the doghouse with her beloved (not me) because she was extremely docile in the car ride and then moped around the apartment while I was running around changing out my bag and such. She tried to get all resisting arrest on me by going limp when it was time to go in the crate, but I was having none of that. I think she might just be needing some attention and playtime, since I've been absent from the house a lot since Saturday night. How quickly my anger at her for behavior turns into guilt about being a good pup daddy.

Time for coffee. This morning I realized too why I maybe puked last week after drinking coffee at dommeyourass's house -- her soymilk expired on June 3rd.

Seeing as I'm a paradox, even though I'm a bit cranky, I'm also feeling inspired by a song this morning. And if I was someone who posted song lyrics in my journal (other than just subject headers), I'd put it here, but I don't. But if I did, it would be from Talib Kweli's "Get By".

You know you're right.

I was very proud to always vote for Cynthia McKinney when I was reigstered in Atlanta. Even when she was going down in flames, I knew in my heart that she was still a good representative. I mean, yeah, she's a politician, so a good politician can be a low category, but still. I'd still vote for her any day of the week and be proud to have her represent me.

Now I feel even better about standing by her.

( another progressive irrevocably shredded by the so-called-liberal media )

This is an alarm call, so wake up, wake up now.

Here's the thing about being me. It's exhausting and frustrating and maddening. But damn, if we don't have fun sometimes.

It's completely pouring down rain right now and my only thought is "will my iPod stay more dry wrapped in a plastic bag and shoved down my pants, or wrapped in a plastic bag and put in my shoulder bag?"

I'm in a weird but great mood because I just wrote this long rambly private entry that had some valid points but it was mostly just dumping, just getting it out of my head, about all sort of randomness. And sometimes I like to save these types of things so later I can think "hmmm, see you made it through! why were you worried?" but somehow I'm wondering that by keeping it, I would still be holding onto all the worries and fears and patterns of behavior. So after writing paragraph after paragraph after paragraph, I highlighted the entire essay, and right as one of the attorneys walked up to sign a letter, I hit delete.

I see it as the written equivalent of watching the thoughts float by you down the river or past you on the mountaintop.

So maybe tonight I can write something else, something fictional, that will draw on the ideas but won't just be about therapy for my own anxiety.