Unrealistic Expectations

I guess I haven’t been posting a lot recently.  That’s because I have very little to report.  “Hibernation” is a kind way of expressing my way of living these days.  A more accurate description would be something between “wallowing” and “spending every waking minute watching Buffy and praying for any sort of change.”

I do go out though! Sometimes.  I went out on Friday and got crazy sexy burgers at the Old Fashioned with some friends, and then we went to a martini bar until 2am.  Tonight I went to a folk music concert at a cafe in Verona.  Things do happen to me!  But mostly I just kind of wallow and feel useless.

I know, this is not exactly the thing to admit on your blog just when you get to the point where you have a good crop of regular daily readers, but hey, at least I’m honest.   And while I’m being honest, I’ll admit that most of those readers only found me by googling “strap-on” and finding the post I wrote about strap-on picking stools on the farm last July anyway.  Sick-os.  You amuse me to no end.

Where was I?  Oh yes, waiting.  I, again, remind you that after an intense interview process and two months of waiting to hear back, I will be finding out if I got into Teach For America in 9 days 21 hours and 7 minutes.  And I have a well-laid out list of backup plans if that doesn’t pan out (see last post).  But I still feel like I’m on death row, waiting to see if I have a future most days.   My dreams and goals and plans are out of control and I’m starting to almost feel swarmed.  A swarm of expectation.

There is one thing to report.  I’ve been thinking of getting a pet for some time, maybe a bunny because they actually slay me with cuteness and are like cats for people who really kind of hate cats.  So, I went with a friend to the Humane Society last night to see what they had.  Not many rabbits, but a chinchilla, a lot of rats and mice, and of course hamsters and a cage with a lone gerbil in it.

Side note: I’ve been reading a lot of Hyperbole and a Half this week.  My mind has romanticized the batshit crazy authoress of this blog into the voice of a generation, akin to Kerouac or Salinger or something (Hemingway is pushing it).  Her post about why she’ll never be an adult (Clean all the things!!) is the story of my life.  She is a 20-something college grad living the meagre apartment mattress-on-the-floor existence, is way unchallenged, frustrated and not sure what the heck is going on with her life, and so she writes about the weird adventures she has, coupled with hilarious pictures she draws in MS paint.

She’s like me only artistic and also on meth.

So anyway, all the animals at the shelter had reasons for why they had been given up, you know, so you didn’t accidentally bring home Chompy the face-eating ferret by mistake.  Some were “family moved away”, “Developed an allergy”… you get the point.

Well, in order to describe to you our favorite reason an animal had been “surrendered”, I’ve decided to draw a Hyperbole and a Half-esque MS paint to-scale model of the gerbil cage:

What kind of a gerbil do you have to be in order to actually disappoint someone so much that they leave you at the humane society?  Did you not chew enough tp tubes?  Run around and be gerbly enough?  I mean, I could understand if there was an 8-foot boa constrictor with a sign that said “unrealistic expectations”, but a gerbil?  What did you think that gerbil would be doing anyway?

The sign also begs the question: what if it was the gerbil that had the unrealistic expectations?

Poor sad gerbil!  Les temps sont durs pour les rêveurs.

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~ by Rachael on January 9, 2011.

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