"I want to hold a mirror up to society, and then win the world record for biggest mirror." --Tracy Morgan, 30 Rock

This quote was stolen from another blog that I reached through this other one blog. Tracy Morgan, right? Hilarious. Today is the first day I'm banning myself from Facebook at work, and so that's how that's going.

Just as I start writing on this thing again, I'll probably stop. Little Sister and my favorite Aunt both said, at different times this Christmas, that I should write a book. I always figured I would, but like at age 80, and it would be an Anais Nin affair. However I am now 33 and whatever dramatic shift in figure or temperament that allows for scandalous life of artistic debauchery has not happened. In fact, I get more and more like Laura Ingalls Wilder with every passing day. I should write this book now, before it becomes 'Little House in the Big Woods,' with endless sexy passages about how the joints of the tiny dried herb drawers were fitted.

The idea is to write, plainly, the vignettes of the families, children, and coworkers I have had the pleasure of working via my job as a social worker. The challenge is to do so in a way that is not condescending or exploitative; also, in a way that is funny and enjoyable, on some level. Ultimately the goal is to humanize a dehumanized and hypothetical group of people. Little Sister suggested that the ultimate goal is to contribute to another image of social workers, beyond prairie-skirt-wearing-overworked-and-crying-mess; this has its appeal, and then also I'm disgusted by my own desire to revamp my profession so that it is, in a word: sexy.

On the other hand, I dress ridiculously at work with this same intention.

Amidst racial tension at work I actually referred to myself as "white chocolate." I am consistently amazed at the following things:

--people

--life

--what I can get away with

--music

Calling myself "white chocolate" is what I mean about getting away with things; this also covers some of my outfits. How my co-workers respond to me is more of a people issue; due to a common homicidal enemy, everyone has been getting along famously. The girl who threatened to kill me is running around threatening to kill everyone; there is a tension/release thing happening every time more than four or five of us congregate. Tension: she is trying to kill us, get someone else to kill us, or get us fired. Release: we are the only ones who know just how deeply nutso she is; also, we make jokes.

A final note: the mood swings PMS provides are the only experience of highs and lows I'm getting lately. A good friend has suggested hard drugs as the solution to my problems. Hard drugs and soft pants: Winter 2010.