Oy Vey!

I can't believe what a trying month this has been. I've been working 14-hour days for the last week, and I am so fucking tired. We finally moved the last of our stuff into the new place. But about a week ago, someone broke into our old place and stole whatever looked like it had any kind of resale worth: my iPod, my keyboard (piano, not computer), and God only knows what else... I haven't unpacked everything to find out yet. And my favorite skirt and my favorite jeans were attacked by a red vampire skirt, and now they look all bloody. I also have reason to believe that the theives stole my sense of humor. Bastards. I wonder if I can write that on the police report...?
I am beyond heartbroken about my shit being missing. And it pisses me off that nothing of Bil's was touched. I'd like to note that his saxophone was still right where we had left it. I know that I shouldn't feel that way... but I feel what I feel. It's not fair. And I know that life's not fair, but I'm totally fucking tired of it. Why do the Ken Lays of the world manage to die, convicted, but free (and on vacation, no less), and poor blighted fuckers just keep getting fucked over? I'm sure that money does not, in fact, equal happiness, but I sure am tired of being poor and working like a dog for so little. And I'm fucking tired of being victimized! Fuck all these motherfucking bastards who think that they can just take from others without asking, trading, or buying. I have to fucking work my tail off to get by. And fuck all the fucking bastards who think that women are there to be fucked-whether they want to be, or not.
I am ANGRY. I am a simmering pot of rage, just building up enough steam to boil. And the less sleep I get, the more angry I seem to become. And I really hate being angry. I really do.

I've been working on a production of Zoo Story and The Dumb Waiter. And it's sometimes hard for me to watch Jerry's long-ass monologue in the middle of Zoo Story. Because at one point he totally loses it and goes a bit crazy. There's a line, "...always check bleeding..." that is sort of stuck in there amidst everything, when he's trying to convey the need to connect with something outside of himself. And it always breaks my heart. The other show's a bit lighter... but it's Pinter, so not really... (Pause.) But, a bit. (Silence.) Yes, a bit. (Pause.)

I miss my iPod.

(Pause.)

We're having a housewarming party on Saturday. Mostly to raise funds for Bil's AIDS Marathon. I really hope that I can pull this off. It's a bit daunting. The house is a disaster. Oy.

(Silence.)


There's a woman on my floor at work who was been bitching all yesterday about the fact that she has pink eye. I've been washing my hands extra carefully.

(Pause.)

I was given what should have been 40+ hours worth of work, and I finished it all already. It's 11:00am on Thursday. I'm taking tomorrow off.

(Silence.)

I miss my keyboard. I was really getting pretty good at playing the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. By the time I can replace the keyboard, I'll be back at the beginning, again.

"WE'VE GOT NOTHING LEFT! NOTHING! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

(Silence.)

And my iPod totally had tons of Taylor Hicks on it. And, yes, it's all on my computer, but that's not nearly as portable. The computer can't entertain me on the train.

Fuck thieves. I hope that they die very painful deaths. They took the very gifts that I cherished most for their meaning. They stole the sentimental stuff. I know that I could be pragmatic about it, but this time, I choose not to be. FUCKERS.

That is all.