6.01.2006

I'll try not to let the door hit my ass on the way out.

I'm really starting to lose it. I need to get out of here. Away from the city; away from my job; away from all these ... people. Blech. Why don't the people just stop talking to me?! Seriously ... zip it. You're annoying me.

Okay, see what I mean? I am totally not usually like this. I am a kind and patient young(ish) gentlewoman. Sarcasm notwithstanding.

The weird part is that my life is actually quite excellent right now. I'm just about to close a show that was challenging in all the best possible ways and quite successful and well-praised. I'm directing Shoogie in his solo piece that's going up in a festival next weekend - and it's going so freakin' well. My job's fine; I'm having fun; I adore my friends; biddy biddy boop boo nerdle derdle.

But the people. The poor ignorant people* are constantly throwing their unintentional buzz-kipe into my determined path. I have a few theories regarding this.

  1. The people are not ignorant, and it is intentional. The people can tell I'm in a general snit, and are doing it on purpose to razz me; and then giggling about it over lattes later. (I've dismissed this as "Not likely." I don't have that big an ego.)
  2. The people don't have anything to say, so they just talk nonsense to fill up space. (Well, duh. But this doesn't explain why it's making me poke my eyes out with a pencil.)
  3. I am freaking out and actually need to get out of here for awhile. (Aha ... now we're on to something!)
*I'm assuming not ignorant in general (hopefully), just ignorant of my personal current leave-me-alone mania.

Familiar with the term "senior slump?" Yep - fershurr that's what I got. In spades, brothers and sisters. Because Shoogs & I are going on a big fat car-camping road trip for the entire month of July. It's been planned for about 6 months, but now it's less than a month away and I'm starting to sweat. Big time. I want to hit the road so bad I can smell it. And it smells like hot dry heat and healthy sweat, and that smells like freedom. I haven't felt this way about a vacation since I was a kid and would restrain myself by only packing two weeks beforehand.

So if we cross paths, I am asking your kindest indulgence if I am less than patient and kind. It's not you; it's not me ... it's the open road.

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