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2006-12-02 - 8:55 p.m.

There is Nothing to Fear, Except Scientology

I finally deleted some space hogs from TiVo yesterday, and was delighted to discover TWELVE suggestions a-waitin' for me this evening. There were tons of forensic-y and detective shows (yay!), but the big surprise was "Coal Miner's Daughter" (Loretti! Doo!) which I love almost as much as a Little House marathon on a paid holiday.

I started bouncing up and down on the bed indian-style. Sometimes TiVo is so right on the mark, it's eerie. I'm still not sure how it figured out I'd like that movie based on everything I've recorded in the past.

Ohhhh! And you know what's really weird? Last night I dreamt I was on a RV/bus on a long road trip. Just like Loretti! But as I walked through it, it kept getting bigger and wider (2 full bathrooms, 2 master suites, a sun porch [?], etc). But the weirdest thing was that K-Fed was driving it. And when I sat up front, he reached over and held my hand. I was so embarrassed. And disgusted. But I kinda felt bad for him, so I didn't pull my hand away until we stopped for snacks a few minutes later. (Thank heaven for 7-11).

Anyhoo, in between all my TV watching and sleeping, I managed to get quite a bit of stuff done around here. I did two big loads of laundry, put fresh sheets on the bed, unclogged the bathroom sink, cleaned the bedroom and bath, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, scooped the ashes out of the fireplace, blah blah.

But I realize more and more that my life has become this little blob of activities that mean nothing. I can't even remember when it started, but at some point this year I switched over to a pattern of doing nothing outside world-related once the weekend hit.

For example, I used to go grocery shopping on Saturdays. Now I stop off on Thursdays or Fridays on my way home. I fill up my gas tank, or go to the bank, on my lunch hour. I drop off my trash on the way out to work.

My goal is to not have to get in my car for anything until I go back to work on Monday. There have been a few exceptions, but for the most part I stay home.

And it's not as if I want to be OUT THERE doing things, it's the exact opposite. But at the same time, I know it's not healthy for me to be holed up every weekend like a recluse at age 36.

Then again, I don't want to do stuff just for the sake of doing stuff. If I decided to get out of the house to "do something" tomorrow, it would probably involve taking a drive through the country. First off, I do that almost every night on my way home from work, and second, I'd still be avoiding people. I could go see a matinee, but why deal with the holiday shopping traffic when I can rent the damn movie in 6 months anyway?

Hundred other things I could think of to do, but I don't want to do any of them. Am I becoming too lax, or am I coming to terms with who I really am?

Or is "who I really am" a big fat excuse because I stopped trying/caring?

I was always my happiest when planning on my next big life adventure, or working towards a goal. But for the last few years, I haven't had a new goal.

I think I've built up so much clutter (in every sense of the word) that there's no wonder I can't find my way outta this paper bag. So first, I need to sort things out.

What I DO know is that I have to ditch this job soon. I have no where to go but down there, suppressed by the tippity-tappity dress shoes of THE MAN. ("Could you look up the number of the nearest Radio Shack, after you throw this battery out?")

My next gig may suck as well, but I WILL GET: 1) paid more, 2) every goddamned holiday I'm entitled to.

Additionally:

I need to toss/sell/give away all the excess trappings I've been holding onto. Lighten the load, if you will.

Get my first passport. I'm gonna need that before I run away to Greece (even if it's only for two weeks).

Reconnect with some old friends.

Take a spontaneous weekend trip some random Saturday morning. Pack up the car and the dogs and head out to North Carolina.

And most of all, stop being afraid of the world. Hell, I faced an armed S.W.A.T. team in my nightgown at age 12 without freaking out, for chrissakes!

If anything, the world should be afraid of me.

Sooooo...who wants all my Tom Cruise movies on VHS?