Death and Life

can be really nice and really mean. For various reasons I don't have a job to go to since June started, so I can mope like a champion and that's for a reason. I used to have to clean up the bathroom after drunk people and work and feel underappreciated and semi-persecuted, with my feet and ovaries hurting. Now that I'm jobless, maybe I have progressed. (But not my computer lab job. Loved that job. Are you kidding? Especially updating software in an empty room with KCRW playing. I could get that job back in the fall if I stayed here.) But I became unemployed and got the notice of a death. And now, everytime I read FB friend's stuff, I'm simultaneously happy/impressed and also pissed off with myself for not noticing I should've tried harder to get to know a fellow writer person. Kind of, it reminds me of when Anne Frank's father said he didn't know how deeply she thought and felt about things until he read her diary after she died. Honestly it's unbelievable. Death is, I mean. I just don't truly believe in it. But people have to. That's what they do on this planet.