"How come when it rains, it pours?"

That is the text message I just sent to my mommy, who of course is terribly concerned about me. As I hit send, I thought about an inspirational art piece hanging on the wall in the bathroom of this coffee place for you to contemplete while you shit. You know, just in case you have no receipts or voter resigtration cards in your wallet to read. The thing says:

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning to dance in the rain."

So unexpectedly beautiful and inspiring for folk art wisdom in a W.C. But it seriously fails to consider acid rain and the harmful effects that extended contact with this poison infused precipitation can cause. What can I say, I'm a realist.

Okay okay, I'm a pessimist. Maybe I'm a horticulturalist.
I definitely have some sort of 'ist' attached to whatever adjective I am.

I wrote something last night and too long, graphic, and personal to post here, but I'll tell you that it included a new promise to myself, a vow if you will, to get out of my Aunt's house for a while each day, and go somewhere and write. I am fulfilling this promise right now, which I guess makes me awesome, even though I'm still unemployed, but hey, at least I'm pretty.

I purchased a biscotti to dip in my under-sugared coffee, which disappointed me direly. You know how it is with biscotti. It's either really good, really bad, or some where in between. I'm sad to report that I ate it anyway.

I'm happy to report that I bought 3 books at the Goodwill donation center/bookstore next door for a grand total of $6.48 which is awesome. I guess I just want to buy as many books as I can with money I shouldn't be spending to make it even more annoying to move again. I love love love books but why does having a library to display your intellect to visitors come at such a heavy cost?

The most hilarious thing about right now is that I came here to get away from noise and people blah blah blahing, but the radio is playing as loud as the widescreed at Auntie's and the two other patrons here have been in an animated and echoing conversation with one of the employees for the past 15 minutes. Maybe I just need my own quiet place that no one knows about that has electricity and air conditioning and is also free. I probably should just go to the library so the librarians can "shhhhh" any one who tries to start any shit. Oh wait, there's no library in Jonestown or anywhere with in reasonable 98 degree driving distance.

I hate the country. Whay can't the world just be continuous city?

I've discovered something about myself lately which has always been true. I like to be around people but have them leave me alone. I like background noises: traffic, construction, the hum of many conversations, but I don't want to be involved in it. The same is true when I sleep. I can't sleep in quiet. I need a noisy fan or tv turned down low.
When I'm out in the country, the peacefulness lulls my mind onto a coma. Except in my Auntie's tiny over populated home. There, the noises are disturbances and the only way to get away from them is to go out side, where it's too hot and quiet.
Blah blah blah.