I'd Rather Have A Bottle In Front of Me...

How do people stand working at doctor's offices? How do they stand dealing with patients demanding the doctor deliver their son's Concerta prescription right now, by laser beam? I cannot imagine anything more suffocating than making a career of being a medical secretary, and I'm only a goddamn temp. If you are a medical secretary and you genuinely like your work, I am in awe.

Been working on the novel this week for the eight billionth time. I've been starting and restarting that damn thing since I was about twelve and trying to make a grand statement about teen suicide. I actually wrote a play about teen suicide that won a Scholastic writing award when I was thirteen. Got to come to New York and have lunch at the Waldorf Astoria and everything. No lie! And it was the day after my first kiss, no less.

The two bright spots this week were an awesome documentary on POV called The Boys of Baraka about four poor black boys from Baltimore who went to a boarding school in Kenya for a year (the school was forced to close when the embassy in Nairobi shut down--isn't that the way it always works?) and an article in a yoga magazine whose name escapes me about yoga charter schools. Roll your eyes all you want, but I think it's a great idea. Why aren't schools incorporating yoga into their curricula? Because it's "faggy"? Beats the hell out of lining up for forty minutes to wait to hit a field hockey ball into a net.

In other news, today is Sarito's birthday, so send her some love. Oh yes, and lest we forget, my 30th is coming up in one month and one day. Still don't know where I'm having my party. I'm leaning toward Two Boots in the East Village. Of course, I'm terrified only two people will come and I'll be sitting there like an asshole all night while my two true friends give me pitying stares. Has that ever happened to you? I'm not saying it's happened to me, either. Yet.