Yes, Still Alive Am I.

And talking in Yoda-speak, apparently. I'm choosing to blame it on the late night viewing of Spaceballs Saturday night. Sure. Why not.

It's been a long couple of weeks, really, hence the not posting at all thing. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's that I haven't had any desire to write it up. Because I'm lazy. It's a New Year's Resolution. Ok. Not really. I didn't really make any Resolutions this year, because I never really have made any Resolutions, any New Year. I've made a couple of semi-Resolutions though. My two semi-Resolutions are to 1. I resolve to take advantage of the gazillion things that Chicago has to offer that I've not taken advantage of in the (very nearly) 3 years that I've lived here, the touristy things (boat tours and the like), the theatre things, all of those things that you want to exist when you are looking at places to live in, but then never go to once you're there. That sort of thing. 2. I resolve to tackle one major or three minor cleaning/straightening/finishing projects every day until my apartment is spic and span. Not that it's particularly filthy or anything, because it's not, but there are things that have to be better organized or projects that have to be finished or little things like the couple of lines of grout in the shower that have that orangey mold growing on them and need a blast of bleach. The sort of things that you'll worry about later, because other things need doing first. Like the sink full of dishes trumps the grout-mold. I've stuck to the latter, but not yet the former. But the year's still young...

...and my birthday is in twelve days. This is the first birthday that I've ever panicked over. I'm very nearly the ripe old age of twenty four. Woo. I know. Old, right? So old it requires panicking, right? I know. I'm a baby. My life has barely even started. Yes, I know all of that. But that knowledge doesn't keep me from having all of these you had better make this year really count because this is it. This is the last year you have to fuck around and be stupid and young and make mistakes because once you turn twenty five then you have to start thinking about real life and god what if this year sucks and I spend the rest of my life wondering why I didn't quit my job and go to Jamaica and spend the year knitting tams out of the fiber from coconut husks and hemp and sell them to Rastafarians in exchange for ganja?! *ahem* Which is all totally pointless and defeatest and all the other -less and -ests you can think of. And I'm aware of all that which makes me feel even shittier for thinking it in the first place. But I'm about over it, now. Right this minute, anyway.

The holidays were mostly good, with the exception of my brother falling back into his assholian ways. But I don't really feel like sharing that right now. My good mood is fragile and couldn't take the strain.

I started my new job a couple of weeks ago, and I like it a lot better than what I was doing before with the exception of the co-worker who I have to train on the very basics of our database (looking up individuals, very simple data entry, the very minimal skills one would need) who told me this morning "I tried to get them [upper management] to send me to the consultants for training, but they seem to think that you can train me *eyeroll*" and then was amazed that I was insulted by that. Like, excuse me bitch, I've had no less than three different people on staff tell me that they were so very thankful that I was able to be kept on since we [the organization] would be totally screwed when it came to the database, but no, I probably couldn't handle training you on how to click the find button and then type the first four letters of the individual's last name. That's all very much out of my grasp.

But enough of that.


That's about it, really. I'm still alive, still thankful to be alive and that's a good thing.