I just hate that I'm one of those women. I just hate it. It is the ulitmate in insulting cliche to end up this way. Yet, there is nothing I can do about it. The universe (yes, I blame you) has made it so that I am One of Those Women--you know: just over thirty, biological time bombs, half-ass career (I use the word "career" lightly), no equity, chronically single (I tell you, a decent-smelling bricklayer with a nice mom would do GREAT right about now), divorced (starter marriage nearly a decade under the belt), clinging to individual expression through handbags and shoes (attempts at such rendered null and void by sheer numbers of other women doing the same thing with a limited selection of said handbags and shoes--it's a supply and demand thing), wandering place to place, looking for that next 'cool' place that will make everything ok, still pissed at Daddy, etc., etc.
So, I'm this far head-up-my-own-ass when the Russian school children held hostage crisis breaks into utter chaos, bloodshed and horror.
And I'm a shit. A self-ish, self-centered, pathetic shit.