Malice is Whiney

Why is Malice complaining? He just came back from his first vacation in about 25 years, he's upgraded his home computer so that it has a total of 271 gigs of hard drive space and 768 megs of RAM, he just signed up to pay a SHITLOAD of money at the (ultra-fancy) New York Sports Club for the next year and he's finishing up a measley 2-day work week today. What's he complaining about NOW?

MONEY.

I think I need to start listening to those commercials they run at 2 in the afternoon and consolidate my debt. It's insane how money runs your life. If you didn't have to worry about bills, about rent, about the awful day-job, about all the other expenses that pile up in a week or a month... MONEY isn't the problem. LACK OF MONEY is the problem. It drives people to steal and kill. It drives people to put aside their personal beliefs and work for a company that contributes money to the devil...

Uh oh... here comes the grumpy old man...

I'm just talking here. May I be candid? Might I be candid on my own fucking blog?!

Please -- don't hurt me...!

Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, Voice In My Head. I'm just in a funk...

Took a tour of New York Sports Club yesterday. (The one in Grand Central.) It was the coolest gym I've ever seen. (I'm so accustomed to going to the cheap ghetto gyms.) You pay for it, but it's beautiful. I figure there are a bunch of locations to choose from and I could go during my lunch hour so that my work days aren't COMPLETELY non-productive. I hate crowds and one of the toughest things since graduating from college has been trying to fit the "gym" into a daily work routine. And I hate talking about it, and so I guess I shouldn't be blogging about it (but if I bury it all in this really long paragraph, maybe people won't read it). The reason I don't tell people that I've joined a new gym is because I feel you set up expectations. Someone might be inclined to charitably offer, "Oh really? I can tell! You look much better..." (Which would be to imply you'd been looking like a fucking train wreck before.) Or people might expect you to look like a fucking Olympian in a few months, and look at you with disappointment when you look like the same old schlumpy schnook. So if you know me and you see me, do me a favor and don't say a fucking thing, either way. Judge me quietly, if you must.

Got it. Treat it like you didn't even blog it, Mr. Sensitive...

Don't be patronizing, Voice...! I'll cut you.

Oooh! I'm really scared!

[insert sound of electric shock]

... *ngh*...

That's better... what else can I whine about...?

I'm debating joining this group... this writers' group... this Asian American writers' group...

My biggest concern is... my previous experience with an Asian American Performance Group that didn't end too well... if history proves anything, it's that I'm bad with people...

And I've still got to finish this goddamn screenplay I've been working on forever. What's the status?

(a) It's shitty
(b) It's too long
(c) It's unfinished

If I can just remedy "c", I could work on "a" and "b".

We'll see what I can do with this weekend...

Say a prayer for Malice.