Well Xanga, it's TIIIIIIME TOOOOO SAY GOOOOOODBYYYYYYYYE.
/opera>

Anyhoozles, those of us at Danube, Inc. have made an executive decision, and the Danube has decided to end her reign here at Xanga, invading ur inboxez.  It's been a fun indiscriminate amount of time.  I've had amazing conversations, read some mind-blowing blogs, but I'm movin' on up.  Blogging upon Xanga has become almost a chore.  I can barely look at the "Add Weblog" tab without cringing.  I must be freeeeeeee.

Fweeeee at wast.

And so, I bid you all adieu, with much love.  I may be around once in a while to read posts and whatnot, but my site is henceforth six feet under.

BUT! I am not becoming a social media hermit.  My t'other sites are still up and swingin'.

Twitter:  www.twitter.com/_danube
MySpace: www.myspace.com/unresourcefulswine
And if you're reeeeaaaally special, I'll give you my email!

So long, farewell, adieu, auf wedersehen, all that jaaaaaazzmatazz.

danube--OUT.

"Because I hate the way I feel tonight."

She sings these lyrics in her head all day long.  Every time something is wrong, she sings those words.  And something is always wrong.

Today, she was late for work.  Again.  The boss yelled at her in his office.  The same words, always.  She's always late, she works too slowly, she never smiles, she's useless.  The words stung, but she was becoming immune to it.  She stood as he yelled, unblinking, no expression.  He noticed she didn't care, so he sent her off to work.  She sat down at her small desk in the corner and began to answer phones.  She was assistant to the Secretary of the biggest lumber corporation in the United States.  Even in her job title, she was second-best.  Her job was rote:  answer phones, fetch coffee, file papers.  Repeat.  She could easily drive her car off a bridge.  It was a lemon anyway.  She could easily take too many pills.  She could easily drown herself in the tub.  But why didn't she?  She shrugged when the thought crested in her mind.  There was no reason to keep herself alive, but she was too depressed to make teh effort of suicide.

She had a date tonight.  The Secretary had set her up with one of her husband's single friends.  He was probably immature, and expecting sex at the end of the night.  She wouldn't allow it.  She couldn't bring herself to lie naked to someone she wasn't married to, let alone knew for only a night.  She was 24, a virgin, and that was the only thing she was proud of.  Her chastity belt was impenetrable.

"Yes sir, the shipment will arrive at your business in three days."  That dial tone reminded her of something.  What, she had no idea.

She sighed.  So many days were the same.  Was she depressed?  No, she couldn't be.  He was happy when she heard her favorite song.  "Mighty to Save" never failed to make her happy, but the feeling didn't last long enough.  Something pulled her off the mountaintop.  She felt blessed for those few moments of happiness, even if they were fleeting. 

"Because I hate the way I feel tonight."

She sighed even louder this time, and The Secretary snapped at her, quipping something about not wanting excess carbon dioxide in her air.

"Note to self:  restrict and limit breathing."

She wouldn't be a nuisance.  She would be nearly invisible.