vh-1 classic is playing 2,009 videos in a row, in alphabetical order. Right now, they’re at “The Bird” by Morris Day & The Time, so I would guess that it’ll be over soon. I wish I had a VCR. I would have recorded most of it. Lord only knows how many videotapes that would have taken.
Over the past couple of days, I’ve been feeling…strange is the only word I can really think of to describe it. Not physically (actually, the delayed effects of my working out have me feeling better physically than I have in years), but my head is just really fogged, and I would have to imagine that it’s the antidepressants I’m taking. I feel like I’m unable to form a clear thought. The meds are supposed to “dull you out”, as my doctor says, and one thing I’ve definitely noticed is that they appear to sap your creative energy. I haven’t felt much like writing. Even the conversations I’ve had have been “yeah, whatever”. This matter-of-factness is very weird to me. I’m not used to not caring. I’m used to caring too much. I don’t know which is worse.
I emailed a friend of mine who successfully transitioned from the music industry to real estate. There’s probably a lot of money to be made in Boston in realty, considering how many colleges are here. If I can get my license, I might just go for that. My friend Pat also put the idea in my head to maybe get my bartender’s license. I’ve been going through the classified ads…well, skimming them anyway…and am finding it really difficult to find anything that suits me. I did find a freelance writing job, but it pays peanuts, and I have no clue how I’d even be able to write for them when I’m already working for five other sites, including my own.
Right now, my biggest worry is money. I’m sitting at about 30% of what I moved to Massachusetts with. If I stick around long enough for my yearly bonus and get my tax refund, that should replenish my coffers a bit, but…damn, it sucks being broke. Especially when I want to join the sports club down the street and I want to give match.com a spin. That’s like $120, at least. And I don’t have it to spend. You’d think after sixteen years in the work force full-time that I still wouldn’t be living check-to-check.
So blah. I guess that all explains why I feel the way I do, now if someone could just explain what this emotion actually is.
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