The Pink Shoe Diaries

i spent the majority of today driving around route 24 (mainly in the areas surrounding Target and the Christmas Tree Shop), windows down, taking in the unbelievably lovely weather, and blasting 92.9 and 96.9. There is something vaguely unsettling about listening to Rummy speak about bombs in sinister tones immediately followed by the vocal stylings of Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow. And so here i sit, waiting to go out, drinking the champagne my parents bought me for my birthday, toasting to a small victory at work involving my inability to keep my mouth shut about injustices, be they as large as a preemptive war or as small as prejudiced scheduling techniques utilized by managers who think their employees are either stupid or scared. i will say this: speaking up, no matter how petty you may think your concern is, is always better than quietly (or loudly) bitching in solitude.

i can't help feeling that everyting i have to say is vapid and inconsequential at the present moment (well, more vapid and incosequential than normally)