An army of paralyzed veterans February 11, 2008

My roomie Michelle got some mail from the Paralyzed Veterans of America.  Inside, there was a collection of “gilded” address stickers for Michelle to use, free of charge, the next time she sends a good ol’-fashioned letter.  They ranged in decoration from patriotic to swirly to floral.  Then, on a folded up sheet of paper talking about paralyzed veteran  news (”Still not moving”), there was a nickel glued next to a presumptive statement:

“To show your support, send back this nickel with your donation.”

Michelle was like, “I have to send back the nickel, too?  What the hell?  Can I keep the nickel and send back a penny?”

And I was like, “You’re gonna jip paralyzed veterans four cents?  You’re going to have an army of paralyzed veterans on your doorstep.”

Theeee Eeeeend!

In other news, my brother finally confessed his love to my friend Sara after all of us waiting and tactfully prodding for YEARS.  Also, my roommate Brittany got engaged.  Also, my roommate Crystal has been engaged since last semester.  ~Love is in the air!~

Also, I’ve had a boyfriend since October.  How did this happen?  How did dysfunctionally-paranoid, commitment-phobic-then-way-too-trusting Angela maintain a relationship for months?  I guess I realized that a romantic relationship is pretty much like all other relationships.  I guess I relaxed.  I guess Ryan thinks my freaking out at times is endearing.  Yay for psychologically hardy people!  We need ‘em, we do.

Today while I was driving home from visiting Uncle Paul in Dallas, I felt like I was dissolving in a pool of anxiety…. like I had no bones.  Empty and collapsing.  Baaaad.  No, not bad in a cool way.  I think it may have been triggered by erratic eating today, though.  So probably if I just, uh, eat normally, instead of an Icee and Sun chips for breakfast followed by three-quarters of a bacon cheeseburger for dinner, I can keep that from happening.  Also, for some reason, I feel really fat around my Uncle Paul.  Like I’m the fat niece and every bite of food I put into my mouth is a sign of my downward spiral.  So then my posture changes and my body slowly just blobisizes as I imagine myself fatter and fatter.

“Gee, Angela, you have a strong imagination,” you might say.  “Why don’t you use that for creative purposes?”

Well, that’s a very good point, textual hypothetical friend voice.  Why don’t I use it for creative purposes?  Because destroying is so much easier?  But it’s not, if you’re me.

Nothing seems that difficult when I’m sitting here writing.  That’s why I have to write and not let it fall out of my daily activities.  That’s why I’m trying out this new place.  Xanga has become permanently stagnant.  They’re trying to emulate MySpace now, instead of being a more intelligent haven for us writies/philosophiees/thinkees.  Mmmm sodie…. I’ve been drinkin’ way too much of that lately.  My poor bones, crying out from overloads of phosphorus.

Oy, gotta create some new categories and then sleep for five hours.  Nighty-night.