"But I'd really like to direct."

November 11, 1998

I had too much coffee tonight, but I got to work with this splitting headache that seemed on the verge of a migraine, and although it seems contrary to everything I've ever felt about caffeine, I'd heard that it was helpful to migraine-type headache problems. So, I had two large coffees in the span of three hours, and I felt much better. Psychosomatic? Ask me if I care. It was good coffee, though, damn fine coffee. Except, it was a certain preparation that my friend Alan called "Something Not Even Close to Resembling Coffee." Leave about an inch of room, then fill with about two heaping tablespoons of honey and half and half, then sweeten with 1-3 packets of sugar, and top off with a good dose of vanilla powder. Mmmm. Rots my teeth.

Then, the real fun came when I went on break, and had a sub sandwich, and suddenly, all the caffeine that was swirling in my stomach hit me full-force, and I was shaking the whole time I was eating. And I was trying to read, too. It was enough to make me go completely bonkers. It's just caffeine, right? Surrrre. And what did I have to drink with my meal? Oh yes, a can of Pepsi. That was smart. But I can hardly blame myself, can I? Last night was another horrible attack of the Circulatory Beasties on my poor hands and arms and elbows, and I was up half the night almost screaming from pain. I couldn't even cry, that's how painful it was. I know now [augh] that it's all due to lovely PMS and all it entails, but how horrible.

And of course it kept Scott up. He sleepily massaged my shoulders, and found the ibuprofen, and managed to get me to lie down again, even though I was afraid to. I was like a little kid with nightmares.

Over The Rhine was in town tonight, and I couldn't see them because of work. It was thoughtless planning on my part, but I'd been feeling so poor lately, I would've been all Sour Grapey anyway. Neil Finn's second go-'round sold out, as well as this horrible radio promo called Twisted Christmas. The only thing that's not horrible about it is that my beloved Soul Coughing is going to be there. Do I have a ticket? No. Weep for me, if you wish. And Cake is going to be there. And Beck. Cry!

So, it's One Big Pity Party for the Wellsie. And why? Because you're reading this, and subjecting yourself to my life. I am one of those endless online journals. Just one in a long string, and I can keep typing long after you've clicked on. And just think, you might miss something if you don't come back soon.

Fun at work. Relatively. No bitchy customers, and people who sincerely appreciated the things I did for them. Oh yes. I forgot. This is the time of year in retail that is known as The Calm Before The Storm. I see. Well, I will enjoy it as long as I can, and then go hide in the receiving room. It'll work.

Life's been good to me on the karma front. I feel a little more settled, and I feel that I can go on with things in my head a little more easily. Yes, it sounds cryptic, but it's just me, musing, and feeling maybe appreciated where I had not thought to be appreciated. Some of this came from work, and some of it from other places. I forget sometimes how little I expect from the world around me. Maybe it makes it that much more sparkly for me when something good does happen. I just wonder if this writing I do here will also be a good thing. I need to keep writing regularly.

Good night. This girl is pooped, and she has two prepare two more scripts tomorrow morning.