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Sunday, Feb. 20, 2005 / 5:38 p.m. ~Aiming For a Spotless Mind, and a Semblance of Sunshine~ I may have said this before, or thought it, or written it as some sort of self-defense, or self-protective mechanism, but it's official now, and it feels liberating... it's over. It is completely and utterly and ultimately, not even penultimately, no, finally, over. No more desire, no more longing, no more hoping, no more planning, no more wondering, no more waiting, no more of anything. Text can be erased, emails can be deleted, whole sections of my brain's memory can be removed entirely, because it is over and done, finito, the end, gone, poof! Which of course begs the question, was it ever? Was it ever anything? Only in my own psychotic mind. No, it never existed, there was nothing. I don't think any of it even happened, and at this point I'm sure it will be best if I pretend it never did. And I think I'd like to go back and assure that it never did. I'd like to erase all of it, similar to "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". I'd like to go in for some memory removal. We'll just go back to September, 19th maybe, perhaps that was it, and up until some time this morning, just remove those specific portions pertaining, and the rest will fit back into place nicely. There. What was I talking about? Oh, just writing. That's all. Yes, yes, well, I've arranged for a cab to pick me up tomorrow. My cab. I couldn't understand the guy on the phone. He sounded totally irritated that I had called, and his southern accent was so thick he was unintelligible. I hope someone comes by at 7:30, that's all I hope. And I hope it costs less than $20, and I hope I do not tip too much, as I have a horrible tendency to tip too much, and I do hope that he or she will drive the route I normally drive, as it's faster, and I hope that I don't get to work too early, but my horoscope says I should not worry this week, but I need to be wise. I wonder at this. How can I not worry about my car? I know how much it needs, and I know there is no way possible that I can procure a new car. I can be wise enough to know that I need the bare minimum of repairs. Just get it so the front end does not fall off. It starts, it stops, it just needs to roll in between. That's it. And the resume? Well, I just did it, fixed it up, and it took too many hours, the formatting was absolute hell, using Word, and I am a Word idiot, and I am an idiot in general, but we'll forego the self-loathing for now. The resume is ready to take in to work tomorrow. I'm ready to be placed. Place me. My car will run, sort of, I can drive to a new job. I am ready. I am ready to begin the rest of my life, to figure out what to do, I am ready to figure, to begin, to begin to figure. But the erasing is not quite perfect yet, I still have some work to do there. Namely? I need plenty of time to go by. I need a month, two months, three months, maybe six. Then I shall be fine. I really need for the sun to shine, but we expect rain here, and showers, storms even, so perhaps this is early spring, already, and there will be leaves and flowers everywhere soon, and though I'm getting older, and that never makes me happy, I will have a birthday, and the cats will have their birthdays, and we'll all be older, and I'll have a new job, and time will have passed, and I won't ever think of him again. I won't ever speak to him again, I won't ever see him again, he will be gone, erased. I'm starting now. I just want it to be tomorrow already, and the next day. Right now, time could move much faster than this, and that would be fine with me. I need a lot of time between me and right now. Cost of the War in Iraq
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