Desperate times call for...

Lolcats.

more animals

I am George McFly

How many times have you ever said the phrase to yourself: "I just don't think I can handle that kind of rejection"?  I didn't even realize I was George McFlying myself until just recently, and it took such a long time probably because I had been doing this subconsciously.  I've been way too much of a chameleon at work and otherwise, and frankly I'm getting sick of trying to be the person I think those in proximity want me to be.  It's tiring.  I can't pretend anymore I give a shit about American Idol, office newsletters, OR1-4, how people do my job function in other parts of the world, or pretty much anything else at my job.  In fact, if I was a little more honest with myself a year and a half ago, I would have NEVER even accepted the offer.  I only show this one side of me at work and I'm getting really tired of hiding.

When it gets down to it, there is more in my life like my job than I realize, whether I do things I don't care for to pay the rent, pass the time, or serve as a distraction.  I don't think I'm ready to embark on a life overhaul, and I don't think it's particularly necessary,  but I guess I can start by being a little less scared of what people will think.  I started another blog, Drive Straight Home, which is something I'm SOOO not ready to share with people, but I guess it's my way of trying to change the future, to say to Biff, "hey you, get your damn hands off her."  When I am ready to share, I hope it might help one or two people, even if it's just me.  

It's all well and good to write about cookies, and I think it's very important to do so, but it's equally important to share the burnt underside sometimes.  Plus, I like burnt cookies.