Mood: Crabby and Ranty

The Rabid Ferret is in town. She's not here yet, but she keeps texting me with little messages– "B here soon. I kno u've missed me, girl. xoxo."

I've accepted my monthly alter-ego, in a love/hate sort of way. Sometimes I downright enjoy her presence, but most times I lament it in a "I can't believe I just said that" fashion.

The Ferret was stirring again tonight. My mentor from college friended me on Facebook after I graduated. In my old blog I used to simply refer to him as The Doc, so I will continue to do so, for tradition's sake.

The Doc is the guy who got me to switch my major from Psych to English. The first time he read my writing he was floored by my work–being both a freshman and high school drop-out, I guess I was surprisingly good. He swooned and I crushed hard, even after I started to date my fiance. He also played a huge role, as I wrote the first draft of my novel for my final independant writing project. He's been with me every step of the way… and now I find him to be the most annoying BLOW-HARD on the planet.

He's one of those Facebook poetic philosophers; always prattling on about his soul-finding through dipping his balls in a river in New Mexico…or some crap. Fine. I get it. It was very spiritual for you. Now, please shut up and stop acting like the world's problems lie in not enough people spending the day staring at a daisy. Even more, don't patronize me for not finding God in a sunset on some mountain top, while birds are twittering gospels in my ear. It's not my thing! Don't talk to me like some misguided, unaware twit. You have some nerve acting like I'm so lacking because I'm not all amped to make out with a carabou or something.

That doesn't make me a stunted person. It makes me an INDOOR person, you pretentious ass. Not everyone digs sunburn and mosquito bites. Why should there be something wrong with that? You'd think the only beauty to be found in the world is the found in the great outdoors. Nature's wonderful and all, but sue me for not peeing my pants over a blade of grass or the color of some common bird. I live in Northwest Indiana. It's ugly here. Don't expect me to frolic in the ghetto, you plastic hippy. My world is very different from yours. We can't all afford to *tra-la-la* on a cross-country trip. Some of us have to find peace from within, without the glamour of exotic travels.

You brag about your simple pleasures? Try to squeeze some joy out of the view from an apartment window just before you have to climb into your car and drive to a joyless, pointless job, in a ridiculously unflattering uniform. Sometimes those truly simple pleasures are the only things keeping me alive. I don't need to walk naked through some desert to find little flecks of hope in my less-than-perfect life. When you can achieve that kind of self decipline in the face of adversity, then your opinion will earn a little more validity in my book. Hypocrit.