Awful, Dumb, Heartless and Getting Worse...

Please note: This is a very old entry - possibly a year old. I tried to edit it, and it jumped to the top of the blog list. Still, I didn't want to erase it, so I just left it. E.B.


I am not going to apologize for my rant.

For weeks we have consumed and been consumed by Charlie Sheen's stupid drama. Rarely does a day go by when you won't see the phrase "We're watching a train wreck...," (or a variation of the phrase.) All we have to do is not watch. Charlie Sheen will either get better, or he won't. Period. His condition will not change my life (or yours) one bit. If we stop watching, he will either go away and get better, (good for him.), or continue to insist that he is the warlock, and burn himself off. (Might also be good for him - he will be in a "better place.") He is wasting his life, his talent, and our time. We need to stop buying tickets for this performance.

I woke up yesterday. (Good) I was in an "iffy" mood. (Nothing bad had happened, but neither had something good. Well, waking up was a start for good, but I sensed something in the air. Here, I started preparing myself for the worst: that something unpleasant had befallen my 100 year-old grandmother (whom I love very much); my nieces and nephews (all of whom I love so much, I could burst each time I think of them - which is often); my sisters (one, with whom I have an OK relationship; I wish we were closer; the other, with whom I don't have an OK relationship; I wish we had an OK relationship, but we probably never will. Still, I don't want anything awful to befall her.); my dog, Bella (I love her very much. I don't walk her enough, and she is getting old.); my job (I am doing OK, but still...); being an "old-Maid" (Feminism be damned. I am angry that I have not been in a relationship that warranted some sort of permanency. I don't want a knight in shining armor - just someone to talk to at 2 in the morning; someone who would light up the room for me, and would allow me the responsibility for lighting up the room for him. I am tired of being alone, and tired of not being in situations in which to meet that "him." Dont' tell me that crap about "happy, creative, older single women." And to the married women who tell me that I am not missing anything, I say, "I don't see you getting a divorce.") OK, that is something that I am definitely in a bad mood about.

Then I read about Martha Stewart being a grandmother. After years of fertility treatments, at $20,000 a month, her daughter got a surrogate, and the surrogate had a baby. The rich are very different from me. For two of those fertility treatments, I could have adopted a child; for one, a fairly decent car that would last a while; for ten, an apartment or adequate cottage in some not-overinflated area; for two, payback a student loan for one year in graduate school; for another two, finish graduate school; fo another two, take care of some debts that I don't care to write about. With the rest, I could have a nest egg, and stop worrying about my future.