The past few months have swept by in a non-journaling blur. At least a non-writing-down blur – there were many entries composed by brain cells that are now being spent on far more valuable ideas, such as, “Was Nicole Ritchie’s baby fathered by Elvis or an alien?”

There is the still somewhat new but no longer shiny job.

House renovations are now complete (mentally knocking on a Volkswagen-sized piece of wood in the event that something like, oh, say, the roof is about to fall off). This took our retirement home savings with it, but maybe the stucco contractor really did need a new boat more than I needed a place to retire.

Our son has started college. This warrants a whole series of entries.

After reflecting on writing and not writing and the reasons for both, I’ve come to the conclusion that I write for two primary purposes:
1. As a creative outlet
2. To vent

My creative endeavors have been channeled into paper crafts – scrapbooks for the family, collages, and a number of cards that cannot be shared with small children. (Or many adults from red states.)

As far as the venting goes, although there have been minor annoyances in daily life, e.g.:

• The need for all-adult cars on the train in the mornings to prevent the tinking sounds of Playstation games and the associated juvenile curse-equivalents “darn it!”, “arrrrrrggghhh!!” (I wanted to lean forward and tell him to just yell “SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!” instead, seeing if I could get a rise out of his paperback-engrossed mother, but thought that might void my monthly pass)

• The car that ran a red light RIGHT in front of me at 13th and Market that I felt the need to reach out and touch (ok, the touch was more of a slap and my ring only left a tiny scratch, but good Christ on a bike, these Philadelphia drivers are in competition with the Massholes in Boston for most hazardous to pedestrians)

• The negative articles in the two major city newspapers about the project I’m working on

• The resultant Fox “News” crew that shot an interview with my boss’s boss and then managed to twist, edit and spin the “story” into an unrecognizable spew of vitriol (they are, after all, Fair and Fucking Balanced)

• The call from my son – on the same day as all the media attention – that he had caused some contact between the side of the car and the garage, damaging about 107 different pieces of car down to bare metal and gouging the freshly painted garage down to bare wood
None of these has been significant to warrant the therapizing benefits that a journal entry offers. Even after reading about the Tyco CFO’s impending 8-25 years incarceration, and learning of the its-about-time-to-wake-up-and-smell-the-consequences-of-perjury-coffee-while-reading-the-federal-indictment-on-the-wall of the soon-to-make-a-multimillion-dollar-book-deal-and-land-a-no-teaching-or-research-required-professorship-at-a-prestigious-university attorney general, there wasn’t reason enough to write that all down. And gloating is so unseemly.

So here’s a rant I would have written a few months ago, if the spirit had moved me sufficiently.

So Paul Wolfowitz wants some of the slime created by his actions regarding his girlfriend’s promotion and pay increase to slide onto others. The charges against him are “unfair” and he was only acting in “good faith”. W is sad that the situation “has come to this”. These are wonderfully all-purpose lines that can be recycled for use in many uncomfortable situations.

“But officer, I was only speeding in the good faith belief that my need to drive fast outweighs the law.”

“It’s just unconscionable and unfair, not to mention unpatriotic, that the fees and penalties on my late taxes have come to this.”

“Infidelity is such an unfair accusation. I was merely exploring relationship options in the good faith belief that your sister would be discreet.”

Feel free to use these next time you’re faced with a juicy conflict of interest situation and are unsure as to the “cloudiness” of the advice you’ve been given by your employer.

Sadly, it’s doubtful that you will walk away from the aftermath of the chaos you’ve created with quite the package that Mr. W. will be awarded. But then life is just so unfair, isn’t it?

(Now fast forward to the current circumstances with which Senator Craig is troubled. You could replace his name in the above paragraphs and have it ring true. Well, except for the “package” reference. Heh heh. Sometimes adolescent humor just cracks me up.

Actually, I don’t give a shit if the guy has a “wide stance”, was soliciting consensual sex between flights, or just likes rubbing shoe leather with his stall neighbor, but I do care about both his “If I close my eyes and hold my breath this will all just go away” attitude that reeks of lying by omission, and, even more significantly, with the apparent conflict between his actions and the Family (read: white, Christian, heterosexual) Values that have been the basis of his holier-than-thou positions forever.)

Enough. There will be more to vent about tomorrow. There always is.