...Fishy? (Sorry, I can't remember the title)

In the last couple weeks, I've become concerned about the whole "blogging every day" plan. I thought that it was impossible to run out of thoughts, and I was right. However, it is easy to forget bloggable thoughts by the end of the day, leaving me with mediocre thoughts like "well, I ate a hot dog a couple days ago, people probably want to know about that." So I blog them, all the while knowing that they don't, but that I have nothing else to write because of the short term memory issues.

It's sad that yesterday I wrote all about my dreams of a poor lobotomized pet fish, only to realize today that I'm already living his life, except not a fish, which is good because I live in air, so were I a fish, I'd be both forgetful and dead, which would be significantly worse than my current situation. The point is, my memory is so bad that while writing about fish memory, it didn't even trigger me to think that maybe I'm already a lobotomized fish. Mostly it made me think, "Fishys are fun". Then it made me think, "Crap, what was I just writing. Wait, who cares? Happy song."

So about the blogging everyday. I thought that maybe the response I needed was to stop the everyday blogging, but then I thought, "No Sharon, you're not a quitter, except for when you are, but you aren't right now." But what I do think I need to do is change my goal from "...until untimely death" to "...for 1 year". I think 1 year is reasonable. Then I can space it out, if I so choose. Obviously it's with the stipulation that if untimely death occurs first, I'll probably stop then and not wait for the year.

I think it's okay to change the rules at this point. It's like when I was a teen and I would say, "I'm never going to drink, or at least I don't think I will at this point, but in the future, I might change my mind." I really did say this once to my grandparents, who, I like to imagine, respected my absolute lack of resolve. I think it's fair though, I don't need to make decisions for future Sharon, she can make her own decisions. It's not like you see her making choices for me. If past Sharons got to call all the shots for future Sharons, all the power would be in infant Sharon's hands, and I would probably wander through life putting anything within reach in my mouth and still wear a diaper for convenience. But I don't, because that would be ridiculous. The point is, I won't blog forever either, just because 27 year old Sharon thought that would be a bright idea. I will try for the year though, because goals are fun.

Speaking of goals, my goal today is to clean my stupid room, but I'm not posting another picture because of the embarrassment. I will, however, promise myself that if I don't clean it tonight I'll post a picture tomorrow to shame myself into doing it. I suspect life would be easier if I didn't have to be a sneaky parent to myself. Also, it would be easier with a clean room. I also might have more crayon drawings then, because messy rooms inhibit crayon drawings. I would explain the mechanism, but actually, I won't.

Happy song...Don't Forget, by Brett Dennen. It got me through the fall, when I was so busy that I was generally concerned about passing out in the street on my walk home (I didn't though, which was good). I like to imagine that I'm singing it to myself, because as much as it feels great to have other people believe in me, it's not a sufficient replacement for me doing it for myself. I suggest you do the same.

Apparently sometimes I don't title things, but then I do

I hate public transit because of the rage it inspires in me, but I also like it because it gets me places, like the zoo. Actually, I've never taken the bus to the zoo because it seems like it would take a very long time, but I like knowing that should I need to, I can. Regardless, back to the rage. For the most part, it's not frustration with public transit itself, except for the times I run into mean bus drivers and the like. It's all about the obstacles I inevitably encounter on the way the second I want to use it to get anywhere on time. Like if I decide to cut through the mall to go to the bank for money to buy tokens, then it is guaranteed that two very stationary people will stand in front of me side by side on the escalator. Even as I stomp behind them to try to get their attention, my heels clanging on the metal grates, they don't ever think to move, and then when I make my way down to the subway, I can just see it pulling away as I get to the bottom. Then all I can think about for the rest of the day is how those escalator people made me late.

Today, my irritation was with an old man on the street and a woman with a stroller. Then I thought I might be evil. But then I thought, no, they deserve to have me screaming at them in my head. If they can't keep up, they shouldn't be in the game. What game, you might ask? And, if you are asking that, you should probably get out of it too, because I want to win and you're holding me up.

To calm the rage, I went out for dinner with my friend Sparrow Goslin. We went to find dessert at this random cafe because it had a name that made us go. I'm going to be secret about the alluring name because it might be a future surprise for someone else. Could it be you? Probably not, so don't get your hopes up. My cake had a cream puff swan, and I ate the neck first. Later, I felt sick, and I'm pretty sure that, rather than being because of the excessive sugar consumption, it was because the cream puff swan was trying to peck its way out.
We sat beside a big fishtank, which was risky since we'd just eaten sushi, and you know they can tell. This tank had a very large fish, which I'm sure would have eaten us right away if it weren't for the small bit of glass protecting us. If I'd fallen in the tank (I'm not sure how you fall in a household fishtank, but I'm sure it happens all the time), I'd have be gone before you could say "Hey, look at that crazy cream puff swan!"

Sparrow thought it would be cruel to have such a large fish in such a small tank. She might have had a point, he did have to make a three point turn every time he turned around. I think that could be easily remedied by lobotomizing the fish when you first get it to eliminate his memory. That way, each trip across the tank will seem like a new adventure to him. He might forget how to three point turn and break himself, but he'll forget what it was like to not be broken pretty fast, and thus won't even notice it. It'll be like Memento, but with fish. Actually, didn't that movie start with murder and end with more murder? That guy didn't live a very good life at all. Now I'm kind of worried about my amnesiac fishy. Glad I thought this one through first.

Happy song: And Your Bird Can Sing by The Beatles. Really, I coudn't think of a song today and just started scrolling through my music, so it pretty much won out because it starts with an "A". But it's also pretty cheery for a song that's pretty much like "Screw you. I don't care if you have a bird; I still think you kind of suck, you jerk." That's me paraphrasing. But I like to think I usually paraphrase pretty accurately. Anyways, as someone who has never owned a bird, I appreciate the sentiment, so it gets to be happy song; even though it definitely has, at the very least, irritated undertones. Oh, but I would get rid of the part where they say they'll be around if the bird owning person changes their mind, because, seriously, I don't care if they get bored of their bird, I'm still worried about various bird related diseases I could contract from them.