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Help Me, I've Turned Into A Corporate Yuppie

April 11th, 2003 - 1:06 a.m.

I can't type with things on my wrists anymore it appears. Lately I've gotten into the habit of removing anything on my wrists to write creatively. I'm not entirely sure why, that's just what's been happening. I used to be fine when typing with my watch and bracelets on, but not anymore I guess. It seems to bother me, so I semi-compulsively take them off. Earlier, I was typing with my bracelet off, but my watch on. Because apparently one wrist was protesting more than the other. Or something. I don't know, but I took my rings and other jewelry off (except for my watch)earlier and then when I came back downstairs to write some more I had to take my watch off. My wrists are wacky.

I meant to write about this the last time I updated, (or was it two entries ago? *shrugs*... Either way...) but then I forgot and plus I was all annoyed by the ever-disconnecting Internet connection. But I drove on the way home from Aberdeen Monday evening (erm...afternoon? The sun hadn't set yet, but was trying to...whatever), and it was like a weird episode of Wild Kingdom or something. I saw 39 freaking pheasants of both sexes (although most were male...and I know this because I was bored enough to count them after the first two or three I saw), one absolutely gigantic rabbit that my sister thought was a tiny deer for a moment, and a dead raccoon on the side of the road. Poor raccoon. Admittedly, the drive home takes me straight through a wildlife refuge, so I should be seeing lots of animals, but 39 pheasants is a litle excessive. I felt like the road was a pheasant convention and no one had told me about it. It was odd.

Also, I've come to the conclusion that I am freaking old. I bought a suit for Christ's sake. That means that I plan to wear the damn thing. God...I'm so old. Somebody shoot me.

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And I like it that way.

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