So my first three-day weekend as a working girl has come to a close. I am entering week three of the Atkin’s diet and aside from one very vivid dream about little Debbie cakes I’m doing exceptionally well. I get to eat (which places this particular lifestyle high above all else) but I can’t eat a lot of things. It isn’t terrible—I love meat now as opposed to the past, but I would kill for some noodles or a good piece of chocolate pie. Ah well, my thighs are thanking me (not to mention my chance for diabetes) so I suppose it will all work out in the end. It usually does.

On the good side of things I sent out for GRE registration today. I think I need to go to grad school and go teach at a college somewhere. I like teaching—I think I do an okay job of it. I’m also not cut out to be a secretary. I suppose I always knew that but I thought a job is a job. Live and learn I suppose. I’m not politic, I hate to lie, and I hate being a scapegoat because someone else doesn’t do his job. It irritates me. Some days it infuriates me. Life, you would think I was used to it by now.

I was reading an old story the other night; I think I need to send it out somewhere. It really was an excellent story. I don’t say that often. It could still be better, but unfortunately I’m so emotionally tied to it, it is very difficult for me to edit it at all. It was perhaps a bit to tied to reality for safety’s sake but…that is, in part, what makes the story good. At some point I should have someone not connected to the events read it and tell me if it does anything for them. I might have made a classic writers error in writing too close to the heart. Oops. These things they happen.

That about does it I think. I’m still waiting for my knight in shining armor to come save the day. I think I’ve just about accepted that the knight will come in the form of a small cardboard box with the name “Blue Bunny Ice Cream” on it, but that’s okay. I’ve gotten very good at the independent lifestyle. I’ve even decided I’m not interested in the friends with benefits anymore. Who would have ever thought I would say meaningless sex is no fun. But I have. It was an odd realization, but I suppose I’ve always been a good girl at heart. In general it’s much more fun to cuddle up with someone you care about than have sex with someone you don’t. Dear lord save me I’ve turned into a sap. Obviously I need to spend less time with my beaver cleaver family. I’ll let you all know when my newfound morality runs dry.