dystopic morning

There's nothing I like better than a grey rainy morning when I don't have to leave the house and can putter around with books and coffee and a sleeping dog.
Too bad the world is going to hell in a handbasket.
I asked my mom, who just called, about terrorist threats on the NY transit system, (she lives in NY), and she was like, "Oh, I didn't see any cops at Penn Station. They're always saying there's terrorist attacks, I can't keep up."
I, on the other hand, am apparently subconsciously traumatized. I dreamt last night the Earth was being blown up and would no longer be inhabitable, so we were all being deported to another planet. I didn't get to take my clothes, but somehow fought my way through a very complicated building to my room (?), where I had stored Nero, since I refused to leave the planet without him. Most of my dystopically-centered dreams always have this same plotline, which involve me caring about nothing but my dog. So much for the subconscious.
Um, yeah, happy Thanksgiving.

Today's Best Email Spam Subject Line

Is Your Ex Looking For You?

Response: No, Internet, they pretty much all know where I am.

over the hump

I caught a terrible cold on Sunday. It was sort of odd. The boy and I have been going to the CG3 on Sundays. He lifts weights, or something, while I run on the indoor track. We were on our way out when I sneezed. And sneezed again. And kept sneezing and within an hour was full-blown just terribly sick and miserable, the kind of sick and miserable where your boyfriend makes the mistake of trying to find out what kind of cold medicine you want him to buy and you begin screeching at him because you can't summon the energy to answer a question. Even one asked in your own best interest.
I am starting to feel a little better, although somewhat in a malaise. I keep thinking the Onion should have a headline reading: Liberal Journalists Become Depressed Following Obama's Win, Sink Into Existential Despair. Well, it's not that bad, really, but it is sort of strange to have one's main past-time, that being obsessing about the election, be over. Thank God for knitting. And drinking (although the latter, not ever a major activity, has been heavily curtailed in the face of the excessive sneezing).
So Thursday is Thanksgiving, my least favorite holiday, since hanging around all day waiting to eat an enormous meal doesn't rank high on my list of fun ways to spend a day off. For the second year in a row, the boy and I have agreed to forego socializing and just hang out, eat something, and be done with it. We did it last year, for the first time, and realized it was more pleasant. He works that night, so if I feel the need for people I'll drop in somewhere and mooch pie. Friday, for the first time in years, I'm actually having a birthday, well pre-birthday party, with my friend Kate, who shares the same birthday. Yet another reason to rest up and stop sneezing.
And I suppose I should try to locate some renewed energy toward this blog. It's surely overdue for a makeover of some sort. For those of you who have stuck with me, feel free to send your suggestions.

Nothing is Wrong

Note: glazed expression, but still keeping up on the eyebrows.

I keep having the vague feeling that Barack Obama stole my summer. One minute it was hot and sunny, light until 9 pm and I spent every spare minute hunkered down in my dark house cheering on Keith Olbermann while compulsively checking the Internet. Then I blinked, Obama became president, there was a worldwide celebration and suddenly it was 15 degrees out and dark at 4:30 pm. Mr. President: Can you make it summer again?
It's actually that time of year again. That time of year being the mad-ass run to the finish line, aka, the end of the year double issue, the publication of which affords me an actual week off, during which time any work-related phone calls or conversations will be verbotem and anyone who tries to start one with me will face a knuckle sandwich (like, metaphorically, I don't actually hit people).
Meanwhile: party party party as Parker Posey once said. It's also that time of year: cocktails and holiday potlucks and company dinners and birthday dance parties. Yeah, I said it: birthday dance parties!
But I am taking two days off this week. TWO DAYS OFF. Because my brain is functioning barely, I have seven hundred unused vacation hours and, strangely enough, all my crazy planning and workaholism has actually left me in good stead for the week. So, vayos con dios. Perhaps a little mental rest will reactivate my blogging gene.

Feeling strange

I tend to have delayed reactions to things. Last night, I was sort of in a fugue state, obsessively watching TV, attempting to say hello to people, carry on conversations and then document what I could (which was sort of a failure, as the video below will demonstrate). I'm guessing in approximately six months, I will burst into tears and have no idea why. Meanwhile, despite my delayed euphoria, I am enough in touch with my emotions to be very bummed over Proposition 8 in California. One step forward, one step back? I don't know. I'm nowhere near focused enough to say anything articulate, except I think it sucks. Also, and this is kind of random, despite most people I know being in excellent moods today, I did receive a series of randomly pissy calls, one from a woman outraged that we'd included profanity in the paper (in a letter to the editor), another from a woman who seemed bewildered and angry that we didn't have multiple stories on our web site at 9 am about the passage of the GRT regional transportation tax hike that passed last night. Both before 10 am? I was equally bewildered by both of them.
OK, here's my incoherent election-night video, which begins with interviews with my guy-pals Mikey Baker and Andy Primm, and ends with the countdown to California's vote, followed by the reaction of the crowd when CNN announced Obama had won (followed by my apparent inability to hold the camera still).

has time stopped?

Cuz it kind of feels like it has. We're on deadline. It's the quietest election day I can remember. Usually the phone is ringing off the hook with people having problems. Of course, a lot of people early voted and numerous organizations have set up hotlines for people having problems, so perhaps we're not as needed as we've been for that kind of trouble shooting.
It's too bad, though, because in lieu of having anything useful to do, I've just been eating lots of sugar and now I'm ready to rip my own eyes out. Can't wait 'til the paper is put to bed and we can get out of the office and see what's happening in the world. There are some election-related press conferences later this afternoon, and we will, of course, be providing whatever info we can over at Swing State of Mind.
I've kind of gone past anxious into a strange fugue state. I may be in shock that election day is finally here. And, of course, given the last two presidential elections, I'm trying to be ready for anything.