The weekend: featuring desperate ramblings and retelling of events!

Friday night was absolutely horrible for me. I was talking out loud to myself, God, and the window. I even tried to communicate telepathically with the neighbors dog, Cooper--anything to get some answers or relief from my troubles. Everything at my work has become stupid, stupid, stupid. There's bosses fighting with bosses. I've always worked hard at my stupid monkey job and done what I was told to do and now everything is supposedly wrong. Don't they know that I don't get paid enough to give a shit? They know what I am going through, too, and it doesn't seem to stop them from wanting me to get involved in their battles with each other or to cover their asses. Honestly, I've never been one to break down, throw a fit, and cry on the job, but I came close on Friday. I don't know how much more of this stupidness I can take. I wish to God in heaven that I didn't need health insurance.

Waiting for the next step in my health saga continues, as I have not heard back from my insurance company yet. I did get some good news though. A leader from a local church here has assured me financial support, should things make a turn for the worse. I know that there are a lot of things to bash on with religion, but I have found through this ordeal that for every one religious nut that there are ten others who want to do right--and out of that group there are a few that actually do something good. People believing in something can be very powerful and very good. If a person believes in little people that live in the woods but that belief causes them to do good and to live the best that they can, well, I am all for it. That's actually a Disney movie, if I can recall--Darby O'Gill and the Little People, I believe.

Saturday I was supposed to put on my brave face and go to a belated wedding party of a girl that I dated about a year ago. I didn't go, after all. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with any possible complications or awkwardness. Believe me, she probably doesn't give two thoughts about it. I, on the other hand, carry things like this around for years. It's really hard for me to get involved with women because of this. Instead, one of my married friends took pity on my soul and hung out with me. I've got to thank his wife for letting him do so.

First thing my BFF and I did was have a jam session on guitars. He showed me his new Fender Stratocaster. I congratulated him on joining the Strat club. We did an amp swap, where I will be working on his amplifier that he got second hand--I think a team of chimpanzees soldered it together. It should sound like a bourbon-soaked banshee after I get done with it. After that we headed into town to fill up on dolmathes and hit the Sam Weller bookstore on Main, possibly the best bookstore ever. I picked up an awesome book called, Bigfoot: I not dead, by Graham Roumieu. When I took it to the counter for purchase, the lady working the till says to me, "I like book", and we both had a good chuckle. Later on that night I saw a great little movie called Son of Rambow. Go see it if it's showing at a theater near you.

Today, I watched a clip of Randy Pausch's The Last Lecture. It was something that my dearest webbernets friend Christielli wanted me to check out. Actually, she wanted me to check out the book, but because I usually need a book with lots of pretty pictures in it, I decided to check out the video clip first. Pausch is dying from pancreatic cancer and is taking it like a man. So, a guy like me who has had a life threatening disease, and still faces uncertainty regarding said disease, this was, needless to say (a comma happy sentence?) something that spoke to me.

Having not slept well this past week, I passed out on the couch with the TV on for three hours. I really didn't want to waste the day like this, but I felt so weak. When I woke up, I was even weaker and more tired than before. I decided that the best remedy was to take a walk up the creek to a pond and see if there were any aliens in the woods that would whisk me away off of this planet--you know, for research. They weren't biting. I guess, despite my old truck and small income, my intelligence level screws up my white trash credentials. You know how much those aliens like white trash. I guess if I drank or got high, I could have imagined that it all happened. Oh well, here's to clean living. I guess I'll have to rely on my mental health deteriorating to the point of delusions before I can go to "outer space".

I watched a couple of DVD's. I finally saw Atonement and the phrase "Cecillia, noooo!" has replaced "I drink your milkshake! I drink it up!!!" as my favorite thing to say from a movie. I also watched the Western, Going South, today. It's the one with Jack Nicholson starring and Mary Steamvirgin, or whatever, in it. I got a kick out of Jack's performance, as always. Now I am here, typing, hoping to hell that I can beat the inevitability of that one constant: the dreaded Monday back at work.

Where's my fucking ruby slippers?