I don't know what it could be.
Yes, you do. You started it by asking all those questions about your past, your mother's past, you couldn't leave well enough alone.
Oh, yeah, that might be it.
One thing that always makes me feel better is if I write. So I decided I'd go out and do a blog entry somewhere where there was internet. (Because we don't have it here, at my parents' house. If you can imagine a place where you have to wash yourself in a bucket and cook gruel in a pot in the fireplace, you pretty much have the technical advances of my parents house down. Oh, also, if you're coming by, bring a coat, you'll need to wear it indoors.)
First I try Panera Bread. No go. Then Border's Books. No go. You need T-Mobile there. “OH, I'M SORRY, DID THE THREE BUCKS I JUST SPENT FOR A CUP OF COFFEE NOT ENTITLE ME TO TEN MINUTES ON THE INTERNET!!!!”
That's what I would have said, had I spent three bucks on a cup of coffee. But I didn't.
So then I try Whole Foods. This is definitely going to work. I have used their internet before. Only it doesn't work. AND I CAN FEEL A RAGE BOILING UP IN ME like you would not believe.
I may be a lot of things. Eccentric, emotional, silly, high-strung, neurotic BUT I'm not usually a rage-a-holic-maniac type girl. OH, BUT RIGHT NOW I AM!
I seriously want to shake somebody. Or worse. I imagine (because I hate guns, so I would never think of shooting anyone with a real gun) that I have gun-like apparatus that instead of shooting bullets, IT SHOOTS FRUIT.
“Oh my God!,” they'll scream, “She's reloading in Produce.” Bam! Bam! Bam! I take down (and by “take down” I just mean “PELT IN THE BUTTOCKS with my fruit gun. It only leaves bruises in the shape of the fruit you were hit with AND AN INABILITY TO EVER EAT FRUIT SALAD AGAIN).
I reload with Grapefruits, that's how mad I am. I'm looking for the Manager who is responsible for my HARDSHIP of getting the on internet. I'm gonna get 'em, get 'em good.
The loud speaker comes on. “Maniac on aisle five.”
“Crap,” I think. “Now I'm gonna be on the news. Those bitches from high school will see me and think, 'She got so fat' and 'Did you even see what she was wearing?' “Please, like I could get past how bad her highlights are!”
I SNAP OUT OF MY FANTASY to see that BY SOME MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, that the INTERNET CONNECTION WORKS.
I write my blog and I check my Sitemeter to see how many people have been on the past few days. (I do this to see which entries people like best.)
The number of visitors is the hugest NUMBER since I started the sight. Maybe double the best number I've ever got.
That's when I start to cry (See? Emotional.) I just feel this amazing gratitude that people like my work, that they respond to it, that they see themselves in it. And also, I feel like a jerk that I was so close to having AN INSANE FIT over nothing, especially because I have EVERYTHING. (Okay, so maybe not a job... or a boyfriend... or any idea what's going to have to my family but... I'm figuring ALL THAT OUT. So, "EVERYTHING".)
And I also feel like a loser for wanting to shoot the lovely people at Whole Foods with my fruit gun.
