About Steff
This is my interstellar craft of truth and wit. Buckle up. If you want celebrity gossip, this is not the blog for you. If you want comfortable postings that’ll fill you with happy fuzzy thoughts about the world at large, or self-help guru shit, this is not the blog for you.
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- Wyld Stallyn on Why I’m Not Religious
- Wyld Stallyn on Smells Like Sexism, Playtex
- Mysterious Traveller on The Deeper Reasoning Behind My Going
- Mark Hendrix on RANT: When is Enough Enough? Fuck the NRA.
- madonna on Smells Like Sexism, Playtex
OH, the things I say!
- If you don't know who Wil is, I love his acoustic guitar work, LOVE his live shows, & you can hear him at http://t.co/6xKn9kM. 2011-04-17
- Worth seeing just for Wil! RT @vanhappenings: April Wine play sold out show at Commodore tonight, with guest Wil. http://t.co/bV1OHK2 2011-04-17
- "Ryan" must be SO HAPPY he gave this chick the WRONG phone #. Best wrong-number message EVER. http://goo.gl/wW9Hs 2011-04-16
- A dude's got a delivery from Ikea. Apparently he's putting together a Fight Club entirely-Ikea apartment, judging by the amount of boxes. 2011-04-16
- THIS is the Michael Ignatieff I want to vote for. Where the hell has HIS campaign been? (VIDEO) http://goo.gl/gDzLm 2011-04-16
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Tired, Wired, At the End of It All
I’m frustrated as hell today.
I know I’m PMSing. I’m getting pissed off at obligations, frustrated at my lack of time, angry at the day ahead of me, and I have nothing I can do to really change or improve any of it, other than the plans on tap.
It’s chemicals, man. I’d apologize, but I don’t want to. I didn’t ask to feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this. I also know it won’t be around long. But it’s around now, and there’s not much I can do to shake that.
For now, my life’s pretty consumed with obligation. I’ve got a lot on tap in the next week, and it’s frustrating, because what I really want to do is just get back into a routine. Any, really. I’m stretched too goddamned thin. Still. I’m tired. It’s been a very, very long time of feeling this way. Normally it doesn’t bother me much, I’m used to it, but come PMS time, I get resentful as fuck. I’d like to live on Easy Street. That’d be a nice change of address, if even for a while.
But today is yet the end of another long week, and my workday hasn’t even begun.
Sometimes my life feels infinite and unchanging. I think it’s called winter.
Tomorrow, I sleep in. Then, I make candy for cool people. Then, I party for Halloween at the most unbelievable location ever. Boy, wait’ll you get a load of me.
Then I take a deep breath, deal with my shit Sunday, and then start yet another incredibly long week. This time, without the stupidity of so many early mornings.
If anything, I’m realizing I won’t write if I’m not at home in the morning. This going-to-work-at-7am-to-free-up-my-nights thing is for the shits. My creative circadian rhythm feels like I threw it in a blender with some speed, caffeine, and a mindfuck, then just hoped for the best. Not so good. Creative on the side of a busy life, now that’s a challenge to maintain over the longterm.
Don’t worry, lowly unpaying blogreaders. I love you. I have not deserted you. I shall remedy this pesky schedule thing. I shall rock the writing soon. We shall be together again.
Meanwhile: BOO! Scared ya, huh? Happy boolicious Halloween.
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