and by "us" i mean everyone in the world who isn't you

today i got too involved with setting type to eat the important meals of breakfast AND lunch. sometimes this happens to me when i get obsessively committed to whatever it is i am doing. usually it’s something like screen printing or writing and i end up almost peeing my pants or having a breakdown because my blood sugar is so low.

i left the printmaking studio at about 2:30 and decided to go to daly city and watch a movie since i recently found a bart pass on the ground which i was pretty sure had $20 on it but wanted to test out by going somewhere beyond the range of my regular pass. (it did have $20 which is great and also makes me feel a little guilty. the bart pass is not important to this story.)

when i got to the theater, the movie i wanted to see (strong word, maybe it’s better to say, “wasn’t totally opposed to seeing”) (music and lyrics) was about to start so i didn’t have time to get any outside food. instead when i got inside i bought some interesting looking “pretzel bites” with nacho cheese. they weren’t even trying to hide how processed it was. the cheese was in a sealed package and the whole thing was sitting under a heating lamp and probably had been since about 10 am.

it looked delicious.

i got into the theater and sat in the second row after the aisle. you know what row i am talking about. it’s the best one because you are close enough to the screen and you can get out easily and you can put your feet up on the seats in front of you.

as i was getting comfortable, i noticed a girl sitting at the end of the aisle by herself. she was about my age and quite homely. she had her feet up on the seat in front of her and she had this expression on her face of anticipation like music and lyrics on friday afternoon was the best thing that had ever happened to her. i thought, not in a nice way at all, wow that is one pathetic girl.

and then i noticed she was eating pretzel bites.

if i am going to continue going to movies alone, i guess i’m going to have to stop thinking i am NOT the pathetic ugly girl with pretzel bites in the front row.


otherwise: i think the thing that is making me not want to be a writer is the completely irritating aspect of competition. not only do i hate printing things off, finding addresses, writing addresses and buying stamps, i REALLY hate rejection. the other day i didn’t even place in this dramatic monologue contest that my boss begged me to enter because no one ever enters it. which is true. barely anyone entered. and i still lost. now that i think about it, the only times my writing has been in any publications have been those times when i personally knew or was the editor.

i don’t know. maybe this means i need to marry a high-powered editor. or start photocopying my stories and throwing them out my window. i think the mission could really use a few copies of the new play: there’s a drunk lady selling jewelry on qvc.


this is for erica and jessie; i wish i could end everything i write with this harbinger of 1 little boy in north carolina’s future relationship issues:


“you get skinny too, mommy.”