So… it’s 5:30 and one of those days where life has totally gotten in the way of ANY creative productivity happening in this household. Things like technology, the post man, this crappy excuse for an apartment complex and things of the like, have sucked up the day and now, it is mid-afternoon and what have I got to show for myself? A blog post thats only a little written and a still unfinished book. ugh. My eye is twitching.

At what point to you put up your middle finger to the life of being grown up and make the conscious decision to close it all out, it’s not important, it can wait. Whatever “it” is, it’s much less important than the important things you have to do. Like finish your effing novel so you can actually feel like you finally accomplished something. (I promise that this attitude is all just because my eye won’t stop twitching and it’s driving me slowly and painfully insane… it’s like hiccups but worse. Like eye-hiccups.)

I also hate that being a woman, no matter how modern and open to culinary artistry your significant other may be, that it is automatically my responsibility to bring dinner to fruition. This is stupid and it’s taking up limited brain space that needs to be used for those important things mentioned above. Instead, I’m sitting here, trying to be bloggingly profound, but all I can think about is what the hell I can do with that week-old cauliflower sitting in the fridge. (This also leads me to making up words like “bloggingly” that you have to deal with. No I’m not apologizing, I’m rationalizing and defending my right as a creative being to make up words to fit my very specific and bitchy needs. It’s certainly not my fault if they don’t exist already.)

I’m pretty sure I heard my neighbor have a mental breakdown through the walls today. It really made me want to stop everything and just get as close as I could to listen. There was a lot of swearing and screaming and it was like the best reality tv type entertainment I’ve heard in quite sometime(and I live in Philly, people are constantly making spectacles of themselves in public. It’s actually quite easy to be entertained just by looking out the window and people watching.)

I wanted to write about her crazily inflated reaction to water dripping in her bathroom because it made me think that she is either certifiable, or completely validated. I secretly admire people who can just freak the fuck out without thinking twice about how society might view said freak out. I am an admittedly calm individual. I’m not saying that I don’t get angry, but I think my version of angry and neighbor ladys version of angry are on opposite ends of the spectrum. (aw man, I wish you could have heard her massive, probably aneurysm-causing, meltdown.) People are often just too polite and should probably just learn to tell it how it is. If you’re pissed off, scream about it. If you think someone is a tool, tell them about it. If you hate that your post office can’t ever seem to deliver one single freaking package without a million problems, bitch at them for it. I mean, a little water dripping in your bathroom is probably not the most reasonable avenue for the carnage I was fortunate enough to listen to this afternoon, but think of the world change that would ensue if we were all brave enough to just let our inner crazy out every so often.

Shit would get done the way it’s supposed to because if it wasn’t, you know you would be in for some crazy. People wouldn’t be harboring pent-up anger and stress just waiting for some drip of water in their bathroom to put them over the edge and lose their shit. I really think a bit more overt and outward crazy in society would probably not be such a bad thing.

Dear Neighbor lady,

I support your right to unleash the beast anytime you feel the itch. I hope that this will keep you from going on a crazy murdery spree some night in our building.

Sincerely, Your Supportive Neighbors

I bet she’s not as bat-shit as I’m making her out to be. Maybe she was just trying to deal with her eye-hiccups while stressing out about cauliflower… probably.