Kristi gave me a homework assignment yesterday. As usual, I didn’t have time to complete it, because it actually requires brain power, and I’ve been too sick to spare any.

My assignment falls into two parts:

1. Figure out why I’ve lost my motivation at work; and,

2. Figure out how to get it back. (Or just get the hell out.)

Fair enough.

Why I’ve lost my motivation to call people:

People are stupid.

How do I get my motivation back:

Lose my interest in catching people before they fall off the cliff at the edge of the rye field. Regain my interest in making a living.

Are you thinking it would be an excellent idea to pay off the mortgage early?

You are stupid.

Are you thinking the market is a terrible place to invest money?

You are stupid.

Are you thinking social security and the $4,328 in your 401(k) will get you through retirement?

You are stupid.

Are you thinking CDs are the best place for your money right now?

You are stupid.

Are you thinking of buying a house, fixing it up, and renting it out?

You are stupid.

Are you letting your husband do all the retirement saving for the family?

You are stupid.

See, I just can’t stomach stupid people right now.

I also can’t stand the feeling in my ulcer-ridden stomach when someone listens to what I say, then tells me I’m wrong and does whatever they want to do - which is usually stupid. Because then my ulcer-ridden stomach clenches and oozes acid as I fret for people too stupid to help themselves. Somehow I’ve placed the weight of the world on my shoulders.

(Hey, isn’t somebody else in charge here?)

Logically speaking, regaining my momentum and motivation means getting out of this perpetual Catcher mentality and working for myself. This messiah complex I seem to’ve entered this year is a draining waste of time and energy. If I can move away from that, give God back his job, and start working so that I can eat AND help people, maybe things will fall more into place.

Working for myself doesn’t mean doing the wrong thing. It means not taking every damned “no” so personally - because I couldn’t “save” these people from themselves. I’ve lost my ability to say, “Die broker, sucka” and walk away. This is bad. This almost sounds … dare I say … co-dependent?

I need to care less. Does that make any sense?

Homework complete. Sorta.

Oooh, yes! There are a few award shows I’ll sit in front of the television for. The Billboard Music Awards. The Grammys. And the Mtv VMAs.

So… commentary.

• 
  Beyonce, although cute I suppose, is just not all that and a bag of chips. The sooner this fact is recognized the better.
  


• 
  Duran Duran was onstage. No shit. Duran Duran was onstage. Roger Taylor was on stage. I’m just stunned. I mean, I kissed a poster of Simon LeBon when I was 13. I knew every single word to every single Duran Duran song, from their self-titled release to Notorious. (That says quite a bit, too, considering this: “Shake up the picture the lizard mixture with your dance on the eventide”!) I wrote soft porn with two friends of mine in eighth grade about Simon, Nick, Roger, Andy and John. I called the local top 40 station when Simon and that sucky ho of his got married, and cried when I had the rumour confirmed. I called my friend Tiffiny crying when Simon nearly drowned in a boat race, and she cried too.
  And now I’m 32 years old, and my heart still skips a beat when I see Simon LeBon. (Holy shit. Simon LeBon is 44. Did we all get that old that fast?) And there they were, on stage. And there was Roger Taylor, looking hot for an old guy. The artists I listen to were being all starstruck over Duran Duran. This means Duran Duran are Icons. And this means I am OLD.
  


• 
  Justin Timberlake is an “aw-shucks” cutie, but oh my GOSH did he need to win all those awards?
  


• 
  Eminem was robbed. (PLEASE, okay? He’s a fucked up guy, right, so he’s fascinating. Shut UP.)
  


• 
  I boo’ed and threw things at the tv when The White Stripes had a nomination read.
  


• 
  I missed Evanescence’s appearance. (Never fear, I taped it.)
  


• 
  Why, oh why, do the hip-hop guys lip-sync? This bothers me like little else. If you can’t fucking remember your words, then sit down, brutha, and let a rock band onstage.
  


• 
  P. Diddy is younger than me. That frightens me.
  


• 
  Adam Sandler got fat.
  


• 
  Chester Bennington (of Linkin Park) really melts my buttah. Really. I mean, really.
  


• 
  Ooh, damn. I missed Dave Navarro too. Must rewind tape.
  


• 
  God, I should have gone to the fucking Summer Sanitarium show. I cannot believe I didn’t go. I should have gone, by myself, and hung out to the side (away from all the scary people) and screamed my ass off to Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park and Metallica. What an idiot I am sometimes.
  


• 
  Kelly Osbourne has no place whatsoever onstage at Mtv. Does that effin’ family own Mtv now? How she got to present Duran Duran with their Lifetime Achievement Award is well beyond me. Talentless, utterly talentless. (Unless talent is sucking off Daddy’s teat.)
  


• 
  Metallica kicks ass.
  


• 
  Fred Durst didn’t say anything wretchedly stupid. It was nearly disappointing.
  

2003 has been a slow year for music. None of my favorite bands has released anything worthwhile. Linkin Park released Meteora and got screwed by Mtv. Where has all the music gone?

Bobby dies tonight on the “Third Watch” reruns. What a way to end a day.

Full of opinions,

michelle