Disjointed Appreciation

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I noticed a Richard had said I was officially cool, on my first post no less.

I'm listening to Randi Rhodes. I don't know whether to finally at long last give up on this country or go on a mad activist binge. A friend of mine keeps reminding me that asassination would be a really bad precedent to set. "We don't do that kind of thing here." Well, okaaaaaaay....

Lunch with coworker asshole is tomorrow. I swear sometimes I think there are two Chloes. One honestly believes that everyone, regardless of how evil their behavior, is deserving of respect and compassion, and the other does not give a fucking shit and would sooner kill that fucker than share a table with him at the local Thai bistro. Watch your newspapers to see which one shows up at lunch tomorrow.

In the scheme of life, it's hard to break even if you're a manager. So much effort and work and struggle, so many lives of others throughout history have gone into making my life the relative bed of roses that it is (compared to that of many others today and the majority of those of the past), and what do I give back? Failing to murder?

If I were a scientist or mathematician I might feel I had something to contribute, but today I have accomplished nothing of significance, have comforted no person in pain, have reassured no one who fears, and failed to stick to my diet. I struggle every day with what I believe is an eating disorder shared by all the women of my country with enough money to buy food regularly. Yet I have not today commiserated with a single one of them. Nor have I donated money to a good cause, reached out to a lonely soul, or washed the dishes in the sink.