Progressions/Confessions in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

  • May 10, 2005, midnight
  • |
  • Public

Progress: pick, pack…pickety pack! Look at me! I’m packing for my trip to NY in the morning. I’m so good to get everything packed up before I go to bed so that I won’t have to stress out in the morning trying to pack

Confess: Um. Okay. I haven’t really even unpacked from my last trip. That’s right. I’m still living out of my Asia suitcase, and I’m probably going to pull some shit from that bag and just pack it into my little carry-on and carry it right on into New York. That’s right. I’m a gross, non-laundry-doing slob. I actually stuffed most of the crap back in the suitcase and shoved it into a corner last week so that my housekeeper could clean AROUND it (!!), and after she came on Thursday, I pulled it right back out and continued to pick and pull clothes out to wear to work, etc.

Important exception: the underwear. I promise.

Progress: Yay! Just had my car serviced and out of the shop!

Confess: My car actually broke down over the weekend. I haven’t had her serviced in, really, ever. Had’er for 10 years and have only gone so far as to have the oil changed seven or eight times and had to replace the battery once. So as I was running to catch a big warehouse sale (to try to get a head start on xmas gifts), I threw myself into my car…that made a SCREAMING noise and then another and then a chug and a clunk and a sputter and a moan and then more SCREAMING—I realized that I was in big trouble. A tow, a weekend spent bumming rides, and several hundred dollars later (yet still no air conditioning), I’m thinking it’s time to start looking for a new set o’wheels.

Even Bigger Confession: Due to my fear of commitment to any one or any place, I still don’t have my [Midwestern State] tags on my car! Yes, I’ve lived here for 2 ½ years. And yes, I recently got pulled over by a state trooper. And yes, I have a court date set for the end of this month. And yes, I still have a Texas driver’s license. And yes, I suck.

Progress: I’m all caught up with my work stuff! I had a great meeting last Friday with the big team. I’ve devised a wonderful plan that we’re going to put into works that will be our BIG IDEA for the whole season.

Confess: Not a surprise, but I’m in constant fear of fucking up. I don’t think I do a good enough job, and I’m now making the kind of $$$ that should allow me to drive a nice car and buy the loft and wear a few designer pieces and get spa treatments (at least on a monthly basis). Granted, I’m NOT rich. I’ve worked very, VERY hard for the little bit I do have. But I am so scared that it’s going to fall apart that I NEVER enjoy the fruits of my labor. I never take vacations. I never splurge on my parents (or friends). I don’t even take risks in the stock market. I have a small pile of cash sitting in a bank account, rotting. At least now, I’m forced to take some action. I have to have decent transportation, so a car is in order. The owners of the building where I live are finally ready to sell, so I either need to buy or get out. My parents are getting up there and will need support at some point. Why do I hold out until the very last fucking second?! Why do I wait to make a decision until the situation is so dire? Why am I always so afraid?

Progress: I wrote an entry.

Confess: I still need to pack.


Last updated 5 days ago


Loading comments...

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.