Commuting by waaahmbulance

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I didn't get to sleep until around 4 last night, and when I did, I was tossing and turning because I'd been told rather forcefully what an ugly, hateful bitch I am.

I woke up at 10 to 6 this morning, to take a 7:20 train. My hair froze while I was waiting for it.

I looked out the window at the wind churning up waves, backlit sedge grass, and tiny patches of sand and wished with all my heart for any kind of escape. I don't know how to get from where I am to where I need to be... I don't even know where to start.

The business I thought I could take care of before my 10am meeting, I cannot. All the offices open at 10 and close at 4. Jerks.

I have a long and frustrating day ahead of me, which I am dreading with every atom in my body. And yet, I dread going home as well. I'm struggling to think of anywhere I'd actually like to go.

I can think of few things I'd like to do more than turn the incubator to 80 and crawl inside for a few hours.

All of these things by themselves are generally meaningless, but when you add it all up, along with the crap I haven't mentioned, it suggests that it's not just some mysterious frequency that makes me tear up in Penn Station. I'm afraid I am tremendously close to breaking.

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This page contains a single entry by Vicki published on February 20, 2009 9:43 PM.

The Sonic Object was the previous entry in this blog.

The opposite of sucks is the next entry in this blog.

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