It seems that it is absolutely impossible for me to maintain some sort of regular blog routine anymore. The last time I took a solemn vow to blog every day was over 3 months ago. My life is not as abhorrent as it was the last time I posted here, which is probably the reason why I haven't been writing. Like a true artist, I am only creative when I am eyeball-deep in my own misery. Me and Brandon got back together... of sorts. We're having one of those "it's complicated" relationships, causing me to dodge the question of whether we are still dating like a couple of Jehova's Witnesses. You can tell when someone is in this awkward phase when you inquire into their relationship status by the deer in headlights look as they mentally scan the room for the nearest exit, followed by the awkward fake smile and then finally it concludes with the one line that sums it all up better than any other: "it's complicated". Ah, men! Can't live with them, can't harvest their organs for money.

But "of sorts" is enough for me, and I'm a happy camper as far as the relationship department goes. Neither one of us appears to be able to successfully live without the other for too long, despite our outlandish efforts. We both decided that it was best to throw all and any long term plans into the great abyss, but we both want to stay together until he leaves. He is uncomfortable with calling it "a relationship" but is perfectly happy with following all the rules of a relationship. I don't want to be single (i.e without him) but don't much care about the official title of "girlfriend". And the funny thing is, we're having a better relationship now than we ever did before. When we first decided to "get back together" (it's complicated...) I was surrounded by people telling me this was a bad idea, I was being taken advantage of, I was being the free milking cow that no one wants to buy...etc. As a girl, I am expected to trade my affections for a title. "You can't be with me unless you call me your girlfriend" sort of thing. Because, as we all know, a girl's worth is determined solely by the name a man decides to call her. I say boo to all that. Relationships are like negotiating with terrorists. Probably a bad idea altogether, but once you decide to get involved you have to be prepared to give in a little, or the whole thing just blows up in your face. We swore to absolute fidelity, undying love and friendship, trust, respect, great sex and great companionship... The only ingredient missing is a title. "That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet", or sweeter in this case. I was getting everything I wanted out of the deal, and so was he. And yet I was supposed to feel cheated somehow. But tell me, why should I feel I need to own the pig when the sausage was given to me for free?

I also got a new job, I now work as the manager's assistant at a contracting firm. I don't know how they came to the conclusion that I was qualified for this, but I'm not complaining. Although, how qualified do you have to be to sit in an office and watch 600 channels of satellite tv and eat candy all day long? Come to think of it, I am probably the absolute perfect person for the job. They would have been hard pressed to find anyone on planet Earth with more experience in that department than yours truly.

Speaking of work, I should probably go to bed soon because as we all know, one needs to be alert to fully follow the goings-on in the Tyra Banks talk show. So as the ancient saying goes: "I am female, hear me snore."

Live well and prosper.