futility of trust

I want to trust in the fact that other people are doing their jobs and doing them well.

But so far, this desire has only bitten me in the ass. Repeatedly.

Gloomy thought

I had this depressing thought. The very rich don't have to worry about the environment. They will find a way to get theirs and make money off of everyone else whether things are good or bad.

And not only do the rest of us need to do something about it, we have to find a way to fight and ignore the propaganda, marketing and misinformation that they spread that encourage us to support and aid in the destruction of said environment.

This one only goes to Seven

1. The sidewalks are impossibly icy. I wish I owned cleats.

I walked home in mincing fragile little steps. And cursed and shrieked every time I slipped.

2. Of the five windows I spent weeks weatherproofing, only two are intact. The landlady has seen fit to open the windows to go out and deal with ice problems. They, of course, opened the draftiest ones. Hello, Cold, come right in, make yourself at home. Sometimes I wonder why I even try

3. We have mice again. I have not seen them myself but apparently they are here.

4. It feels like whatever I do is undone by those around me. Or someone has decided that it is their job to have me do and redo the damn thing.

5. I tried to go to Drink and Draw. But it was canceled. I considered going to a different figure drawing event but then work swallowed me whole and did not spit me out until it was too late.

6. CK asked me if I was depressed. I think it's the giant invisible bird that's mistaken my skull for an egg and will not get up from it's nested position on my noggin. (shakes fist and invisible giant bird.)

7. I revamped my online dating profile and now I have a fan. Someone who likes my profile so much that he is bound to be disappointed in me. I cannot decide if this means that I should be more specific or more vague in the future.

So nice hearing from you

Astrology.com sent me two horoscopes for the day.

And I got emails from three yoga studios.

The mystical must miss me. That, or the mystical must think that I miss it. Equally plausible.

The A is silent

I have been setting up and testing automated "email a friend" functions today.

Because they are tests that I am sending to myself, in the main body I have been typing "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"
I find it strangely cleansing, as if I were actually screaming at the top of my lungs.