Note to Self...

Stop. Checking. Social. Networking. Sites. You. Dummy.

It's no good for you. You never learn anything useful. Who cares what he's doing? Who cares how he's feeling? Your trying season has changed for the better; his pleasurable season will soon come to an end. The same way troubled waters eventually wash away, storm clouds will silently creep into view. This rollercoaster called life cannot afford us those gleeful peaks without an uphill climb. And we never endure those valleys for long, because another exciting twist or turn is just around the bend. So, chin up. Shake it off. One mindless check-in isn't such a terrible thing - but it is unnecessary. Fabulous people with fabulous lives need not check in on the lowly, selfish, slimy hoebags who twice threatened said fabulosity.

Homeboy now has a blog and twitter account. How nice for him. He constantly updates his Facebook with pleas for people to follow him, keep up with him, check in on him and basically behold the mesmerizing nothingness that summarizes his life. How sweet.

He has plans to pursue business school with his 2.0 GPA and 2+ years of non-work experience. (Getting fired from Merrill and quitting a non-profit gig hardly qualify as "experience"... am I right?) Pah! I laugh at this. I hope the coldness of New York winter consumes his scheming little soul and leaves him shuddering in the misery of his own poor decisions. I hope he encounters insurmountable heartbreak and cries himself back to his southern roots for mama to take care of him - again. I hope life starts to reject him the same way he rejected me. I hope he gets hit by a bus. I want the universe to abort him.

It probably doesn't help that I checked his f-ing page after 6 flimsy hours of sleep followed by running 3 miles and almost hurling this morning... It doesn't help that I checked on him to delay the voluminous workload that's already beginning to wear me down. Now I can't even concentrate.

I'm cranky. But I'm also sincere. My anger has subsided but not completely dissipated. Linda isn't sure this feeling will ever go away, either. I hope she's wrong. Perhaps small glimpses into his self-proclaimed "happy life" will always trigger a tiny bit of anger or resentment. But that doesn't mean I have to fuel it. I'm actually fine. So, mosey along now. Nothing to see here.