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 |   Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
I fear I may soon have to start using my real name. I do not enjoy this thought.
Day 25 Prompt: Write about a time you tried to help and ended up making things worse. What did you do to correct it? What did you learn from the experience? I am infinitely glad that today’s prompt is not being judged because I have been thinking all day. I can’t think of anything. A few things – that might take a whole ten words to explain – nothing major. Not that I am not experienced in fucking things up..... There is one thing though. Last year in kindergarten my daughter attended the Good Touch, Bad Touch program at school. I went to the parent meeting first to see what they were going to tell her. Not in case I wanted to opt out of this education, but just because Kid A is methodical and vocabulary minded and I wanted to be able to answer her questions with actual knowledge of the presentation. It was a good one. I dare say it was pretty fucking close to the same one I saw …well….31 years ago. And I have confirmed it is the same damn man. Jeez. What a job. He is very good about his explanations and his personable manner is great. He has some anatomically correct dolls he shows the kindergarteners. Well that’s what he calls them. They are not exactly good representation of a vagina, penis, or anus but they are ….sort of close. I wanted to see these dolls so I knew how far to go when I spoke to her about it. It was much more of an….extra piece of fabric…sewn onto the smooth groin, yet it was connected from root to tip. So it looked a little bit like a gigantic clitoris on the male doll. Deceiving. I do the freaky photographic memory thing. It seems as though Kid A has a little bit of that going for her as well, to my mother of a first grader dismay. We were already in the penis knowledge territory. The girls at school had been discussing it slightly and my curious cat needed satisfaction. After the program she came home feeling like she had been deceived. Not by the man, but by life. What she had in her little six year old mind as far as what a dick looked like, was nothing like what she had seen on the doll. For that matter, what I saw on the doll was nothing like any dick I have ever seen. We had the following conversation the evening of the presentation: Kid A – sooooooooo, penises are like sticks? Me – what? No. Kid A – Yeeeeaaah. They are like sticks. Me – well, I suppose a little bit. They come out of the man’s body and I guess they are a little stick shaped. Kid A – (bending her knees into a squat she proceeds to stick her little pointer finger between her legs and move it from side to side) So it is just a stick swinging around down there? Me – a little bit Kid A – (still doing this penis swinging motion) But daddy doesn’t walk around swinging his around like a stick. Me – No! No he doesn’t. (if she only knew) And no one should ever walk up to you swinging one around like a stick. Remember? Kid A – Hmmm. So it looks just like the doll? Me – (without thinking) Pretty much. Kid A – Pretty much? What is different? Me – Nothing really. That was the end. For a few days. Then we started talking again about the stick shape and how the doll had more of a flap than a dick and if it sort of looks like a stick then how is different than the doll. She was relentless. Thinking I could satisfy her need for knowledge…her desire to not be walking around with half-ass information, I find an image of a penis online. A very clinical image. All you can see is the penis and a little bit of the body where they connect. Not going to lie – it was a damn impressive dick – but I kept that part to myself. It was basically an image that could have been found in any anatomy textbook. What I wanted to accomplish, filling a gap in her knowledge base, was definitely achieved. She got it. She understood. It wasn’t really like the doll, but it seemed to be enough like a stick that she felt good with her information. Then days go by and I find out that her little photographic memory has allowed her to begin drawing said anatomically correct dick everywhere she can. Thank god I was able to make her understand that is not something she can just draw on any paper she chooses – especially at school, because …big, little, fat, skinny – this bitch was marking everything with a cock. She gets that from her dad – if you like it put a dick on it. |
Day 24 Prompt: Open mic night prompt. Write about whatever you want. All I ask is that you have fun with it. Enjoy! Today acceptance is on the menu. Not the acceptance of other people and their beautiful differences, but acceptance of fact. Mostly my refusal to do so. No. My refusal to accept that I have accepted something. Does that make sense? It isn’t something I want to accept and coming to the realization that I already have is proving to be the hardest part. I had a painful conversation with someone I love recently. A conversation which, while lacking in verbal resolution, felt complete. Today, the same issue came up and when I said, “we just talked about this very thing,”….I was asked: “Didn’t you learn?” Whoa. It stopped me in my tracks. I actually felt myself pull supplemental rage up from the earth and into my body and it still was not enough. So now I have a few things to say, not because I am right and not because the other person is not here to defend themselves, but because sometimes thoughts organize themselves outside of our minds. And so I shall present them in the order I experienced them. First and foremost: What. The. Fuck?! It took me a while but yes mother fucker I am starting to catch on. I learned that you think your dick grows bigger by sitting on your ass. I learned that what we need as a unit means basically nothing to you. I learned that in the grand scheme of mother fucking life I invested so much time, energy, and essence on something that I grew to despise with more passion than I began it with. I learned that the life advice I give my daughters has drastically changed. I learned that you are an illusion and the truth underneath fucking sucks. Second. I don’t mean a great deal of that. I do mean a great deal of that. Third. What does this mean? What should I have learned? Am I that girl? The girl who wants someone bad enough that she lets it become a detriment to her and all those who depend on her? Because that girl makes me fucking sick and I will not be her. If that is what this means I “need to learn” then lesson learned cock sucker, lesson learned. You do not get to make me into something. Fourth. Does it mean that I should have learned that this issue we are consistently arguing about will never ever be resolved and trying to do so is an exercise in utter futility? Do you really think I keep trying for you? Why? Because you are so fucking killer that I must hold on to you no matter the cost? Since when? I must have missed that. Fifth. See now, we have rounded back to rage, because what the fuck do you mean, “didn’t I learn?” Say I did. Say I learned this Socratic lesson you were imparting upon me with the whole three fucking words you spoke in our last conversation….then what? Are you saying that in the four days since I learned my desperately needed lesson I should have packed up and moved on? Didn’t I learn? Almost as if I was being taunted….do something about it bitch….. Am I not learning my lessons fast enough sir? I am so sorry that my stupidity is astounding to you. And yes there is a solution. Go. Sixth. Let’s make this an even exchange of knowledge then. Study up on the fucking fact that I don’t want another child nor a roommate. Why don’t you start taking notes because you are about to find out what it looks like when I learn to accept that what I have is not what I want, when I learn to accept that what I have known for years is the truth IS actually the truth, and when I learn to accept that you have given yourself a role so minimal, you could be swapped out. And as extra credit there are two true/false questions. True or False: I have been exactly this me since the moment we spoke our first words to each other. All that has changed is that I have refined, sharpened. True or False: I have never hidden the fact that if someone doesn’t like me they can move the fuck on….including you. All of these feelings and thoughts (both the rational and irrational) occurred in the….fifteen seconds I spent looking at him in angry surprise before I said the oh so eloquent: “Didn’t I learn?!?! Fuck you asshole, let me teach you where the suitcase is.” Cuz, you know, that’s what I do – I calm the waters.
I used to be an editorial assistant for an electrophysiology journal. That guy they called in to fix Dick Cheney’s heart….for him. It was a great job. Great. He also is an author of medical mysteries and the editor of a version of The Arabian Nights. Awesome. His wife was awful but the job was great. Not long after starting the job, 4 months or so, I went blind in one eye and it all began (but not the job, the job ended.) Appointments, CT’s, MRI’s, even a lumbar puncture. The treatment to get the sight back was three days of steroids up in the chemo department. I got back about 95% of my vision. It was Acute Optic Neuritis and is usually the beginning of MS. All of my scans were clear of the tell-tale brain lesions and the spinal tap was negative. We moved on. Then within a year I went blind in the same eye again. It all began again. Everything. Still no MS. I now have about 85% in that eye. It’s not that bad. The sun hurts it, the snow hurts it, sometimes the air hurts it – but hey…it is eating itself so give it a break. My maternal grandfather had muscular dystrophy. At the end, the muscles which allowed him to swallow had stopped working, but they were just the final in a long line of muscles that had given up, beginning with the most impactful – his legs. When his children were each pregnant it was a scary proposition that we might have muscular dystrophy. Today was one of my…not overly often but still a pain in the ass...check ups. It always makes me wonder. Which would have been worse? Losing my ability to walk or to see? Every six months or so I torture myself with this. The answer is always the same, my sight. Losing my sight would be worse. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Today was the blood drive at Kid A’s school. We go, we do all the physical and paperwork bullshit, we get strapped up and start squeezing our little stress ball things every five seconds. Then they come and tell me that it is going too slow, they pull it out a little, and tell me to start squeezing faster and harder (oh my god the jerk off jokes that are about to spill out of me). Then she goes to disconnect Husband A. Suddenly something warm is running down my arm (oh my god – it is like jerk off torture) and I look and see the blood start to round my elbow and head for the floor. I tell the lady that blood is running down my arm and they rush over. Kid A, who is sitting there watching, begins to get a little upset. In the next few seconds the stream of blood becomes a steady rushing river and the splatter on the floor becomes a pool. It is all over everyone’s clothes, Kid A’s backpack, the chair…..paint that bitch red or some shit. They make a huge deal, and despite me sitting there laughing, it is clearly a very large bloody mess. The woman behind me had brought her mentally handicapped son and he was already slightly freaked out by the entire process. He was now very very unhappy. Because the bag was not sealed before I was disconnected the entire donation was useless. Contaminated, was the word the asshole air-quoted at me. Really?? We hear all of the time about donating blood and saving lives and you can flippantly air-quote my donation away? Now my arm hurts. Pretty fucking bad. It seriously limits my ability to go slow, pull it out a little, and squeeze faster and harder. I went and gave all the good stuff to the little blonde in scrubs. And since all they did was needlessly suck away a little of my blood.... [Embed For Use By Upgraded+]
Day 23 Prompt:We live in an age where you can do anything and everything on the internet. You can purchase airline tickets, buy clothing, electronics, even groceries online. There’s even online dating. What are your thoughts? Have you ever/would you ever try online dating? Do you think it’s a better way to meet people or are you skeptical or leery of it? Tell us your thoughts and/or experiences with it. Online dating is interesting to me. Husband A and I both have a profile at a well known site. We wanted to see if we would be paired, based on compatibility, with someone the complete opposite of each other. We were. He was paired with the female version of himself and I was constantly matched with male version of me. That absolutely does not equal compatibility….to exist together without conflict is one definition I found. There is no planet in any known universe where I would be able to exist with another mother fucking me without conflict. I don’t even goddamn exist AS myself without conflict. I know two people who met their significant others online. They are both some weird level of fucking happy that seems like the marriage you always wished you had. Or maybe the one you never knew you wanted. So there must be something to it. Here is the true problem….you take those surveys. Those questionnaires get filled out, and preferences get stored. But we aren’t cruising online looking for someone who is what we hate about ourselves, nor are we realistic about what we love regarding ourselves. And even if we were 110% self-actualized, there is the underlying tone of what we are doing…looking for a mate…that shapes the answers to all of that crap. This lovely online profile may be how I see myself but all that goddamn matters is how I really am. How another person will interact with me from the outside. You know….someone that does not have access to my head. Plus…sure I can answer yes to “Does selfish describe you?” but without some sort of qualifier, how the fuck is a poor man or woman to know what they are getting into? Where is the how selfish are you follow up? “If you and your partner both want to leave for the evening and you have the opportunity to tell a lie which would result in your partner being forced to stay home….would you tell this lie?” The thing is….it is ALL chance, so I am good with whatever floats someone’s boat. You are taking some weird shot in the dark that someone is cool and you might like them whether you do it online, or in the bar, or over the cantaloupe in the produce section. What is the difference if it is that weird gray-haired eHarmony guy or your best friend who says….hey I know someone you might really like? |
Day 22 Prompt: What is/was the best vacation you have ever been on? If you can’t narrow it down to one, write about a vacation that you hope to take someday; something from your bucket list. My husband and I used to go places. We loved to travel. I am sure we still love it; we just no longer do it. Now we buy tiny Nikes, crayons and diapers, backpacks, princess hoodies, and skinny jeans. Which is absolutely fine. Out of all the travelling though, my favorite was one with Kid A, except it was also the worst. She was eight months old and my mother, sister, and I packed her up and drove 17 hours to a Stephen King book signing. Plus some shopping and sightseeing of course. It wasn’t fun driving those hours with my baby. It was less fun driving those hours with my baby-ass mom and sister. It wasn’t fun toting her around and staying in a hotel with her. But she is the reason it was all worth it. A little bit before we left I went to the lovely little trendy area of our downtown and got her a hoodie that had some writing on it. I chose a black hoodie and had them put “King and Obama ’08” on the back in a red font that dripped blood. Something I have since discovered that people find inappropriate. What do you mean you dressed your baby in dripping blood font???? I didn’t really even give it a second thought when I ordered it. It was awesome. It is difficult for me to be with my mother OR my sister, let alone both of them and both of them only…for eight days. I travelled with those who disrupt my peace to briefly see someone who gives it to me. But finally, on day four, we go to see Stephen King speak and get our book signed. I am not going to waste space talking about Stephen King – you like him or you don’t. I don’t care. We wait in line and the way it is set up is that he is the fourth person sitting at the table. The first person gives you the book you have to pay for, the second person opens it, the third person makes sure it’s ready, and then Stephen King signs it. Then you move on. Traversing the whole table and getting back to your seat took a whole 30-40 seconds. There was to be no lingering. Kid A is asleep on my shoulder and the first person at the table sees her hoodie. I see this person see her hoodie and I see this person smile and I like it. The first person tells the second person to look…same reaction, including my own. All the way down the mother fucking line until it reaches Stephen King. Who was told to look. He looks, he laughs, and he waits for me to get down there, at which point I had a conversation with him. It was awesome. Awesome. There are ways for me to escape and then there are ways which force me to escape. Stephen King books do both. It was lovely to meet the person who had saved me from my own thoughts so very many times. The rest of the vacation was okay. Saw a psychic, got my traditional “in a new city, get a new tattoo” tattoo (only this time my mom and sister did as well – all handwritten/drawn by me…they have been marked), and even managed to get drunk on champagne with a price tag only my sister would pay. I guess none of that sounds so bad, except if you know the story of the drive to the tattoo place, the childish behavior at the psychic, and the way I hate my sister drunk. It was my first vacation with my mother. It was my second with my sister. It was my first with them both. It was also the final time with my mother, the final time with my sister, and the final time with them both. Unless something tragic happens, because then we are all going to hell together. |
Day 20 entry My lack of positivity can be astounding so for one day – one day - I wanna write some purely positive fucking shit. My family is great. My parents are supportive and so very helpful. My husband works a shitty ass job during shitty ass hours for us. Kid A is uber-smart and kind and fucking hilarious. Kid B is as awesome as one year olds can possibly be. I have a nice home. As with every home, the work that needs done is just love to put into walls that contain our…love I suppose. I am able to spend as much time as I choose volunteering and helping with Kid A at school or extracurricular activities. That shit is golden. My family does not go hungry. We have food in our kitchen – more than necessary. My children are clean and dressed in clean well-fitting clothing. Kid A has money in her lunch account and comes home to someone every day. We live in a tight-knit community and despite the so very many shortcomings, people know my children and they know who should and should not be talking to them, touching them, taking them. My family has their health. My children are little evil specimens of perfection, despite some scares along the way. I have made it this far, despite many times feeling as though I would not. My family has made it this far despite many times feeling as though it would not. Just because I don’t love my life doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of reasons I should. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Day 21 Prompt:Imagine that today is your birthday. If you could give yourself a call on a past birthday of yours, what would you tell yourself? The younger me was a bit …scrappier. Nooooo, that’s not it. Feistier, less calculated. She needed a call from me. First though I would have to page her. Because back then that’s how we rolled…pagers. I know her pretty well though and she isn’t going to call back. I will need to do a fake 911. Hellooooooo past skeason! Happy 17th Birthday! You are on the cusp of an utter shit storm, radar says…13 days. It will seem like the worst one that could ever happen to you, but power through because there are even bigger sewers ahead. I am not going to warn you away from it because without it you would be in a different place. Maybe a better place, probably a better place, but that doesn’t matter because for this moment – THIS is your place and you gotta do that for me to have this. See how selfish we still are? Rest easy – some things never change. I can KY this bitch for you though…so lie down and relax, you won’t even know I’m there. I know that you are beginning to wonder about continuing to carry around the pessimistic sunshine that lights your path. I know that you are wondering this because the people around you are pressuring you to change. Stop wondering. Even if you truly did want to, which deep down you know that you do not, you can’t. Those people who are telling you, through their actions and unspoken words, that being “better” and being “right” would include being located at the opposite end of the spectrum, they are still telling you that decades later. They are going to tell you that forever. They want to be able to speak their mind, defend their position, and control their interactions as well. Perhaps they don’t want to do it in the same way as you, but it is still what they want. I know that very recently you told those closest to you something. You are already feeling like you made a mistake in doing so. You did. Get right with that shit however you can, as soon as you can. Maybe my present will magically improve. I know that you aren’t getting along with your parents and sister right now. Fucking give up, that will not change either. I know that this is the year that you tried to be different. You tried to abandon your nerd. Shed your geekiness. How did that work out? Were you not expelled from high school two months ago? Was it not that extreme nerdiness that saved your ass by already earning your diploma? Was it not that geek factor really rubbing the teachers the right way that allowed you to still get the little stamp on that bitch saying it was an honors diploma? Trust me when I say that coming soon there will be quite a few moments when being able to say you “graduated midterm with an honors diploma” will serve you so much better than you were “expelled but had enough credits anyway”. So of course I also know that you have pretty much started to come to that conclusion already and so I want to encourage you. Do it. Be the nerd you are, the nerd you want to be. Instead of saying it quietly to yourself…speak that shit. You love homework and assign it to yourself…then shout it from the rooftops. ? Let that fact echo through the canyons of the doubters minds, because if they don’t wanna be around you when you nerd out then fuck em. And yes, that’s the shit I am saying to speak. “You don’t like it then fuck you.” Because – spoiler alert – there isn’t a single person who goes away. People are about to say some things about you. I know that you brave the gladiator arena on this one because you think, you KNOW, there is no other choice. Rock it the fuck out young skeason because everything that you do in the situation is exactly the thing to do. The response it will garner is the right response and your reaction is amazingly appropriate. Years from now when you are feeling as though all is lost and always has been (told ya some things won’t change) this will actually always be something you remember. A small point of pride, but one nonetheless. Mostly I know that all you need in the many moments of desolation that you feel is to hear that you can do it. There is no reason not to believe this, even in those moments. You know it is true because you quite literally told yourself. You are not wrong when you feel alone, and you are not wrong when you feel misunderstood. Those things become clearer when seen through filters you do not possess, but for now – you are not wrong. But you are good. You got this shit, and you already know that. I know you are thinking, what the fuck? Nothing specific? No goodies? I got some specifics for ya, but not so much with the goodies. 1. Stop taking that medication if you ever want to have babies. 2. Do not take the next three medications either, for the aforementioned plus a myriad of other reasons 3. In 13 days leave Boyfriend B a note. For fuck’s sake you petty little girl…leave the fucking note. 4. That thing you are doing still…you know that thing that you don’t want anyone to know about…you won’t be doing it for too much longer so against all good grown up advice I am gonna go with – enjoy it now.
For the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  by Fivesixer  30 Day Blogging Challenge Unofficial Challenge I called 17 year old me on her birthday. I urged her in many ways to stay the same. In the spirit of honesty I want to write a letter to the skeason of tomorrow…literally the skeason of February 22, 2015. Helllooooo skeason of the immediate future! I know that you think things cannot get worse. You are wrong. I thought that yesterday and then came today. However this day ends, however you feel about it when you wake up in the morning, it is gonna get worse. That is the course of action you have set forth. Should you not want things to get worse on a consistent basis then I suggest you step it the fuck up. Take some control of things and yank your head out of your ass. I know that your family is your cuckoo’s nest and that if you think carefully you will know that you cultivate the crazy when you can. It is what you do. Your reasoning need not matter, only that you stop. Just take some control of yourself and yank your head out of your ass. You are feeling overwhelmed and that is because you are doing too much. You are resenting those around you and that is because you are requiring too much. Those things…..take fucking control of those things and yank your head out of your ass. And here are some specifics for you: 1. Do NOT wait until Thursday to make Friday’s cake. Just don’t. 2. Do a little laundry you dumbass. 3. Remember the other day when you took away all of Kid A’s stuff? Keep going. It’s working, no matter how fucking hard it is, it’s working. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Day 20 Prompt: What are your thoughts on surprise parties? I’m in the process of planning two – yes, two. One is a baby shower and one is a 40th birthday bash. Have you ever had a surprise party thrown for you? Do you even like surprises? Have you ever had to throw a surprise party? I have never had a surprise party thrown for me. You need friends for that. You need to want to hang out with people. I have never thrown a surprise party for anyone. You need friends for that. You need to want to hang out with people. I have a couple I might throw right now though…. Surprise! We are all here to celebrate your incorrect usage of the word “to”. I know there are a lot of balloons, I fear I may have brought two too many to this party. I, too, think there should be two layers to every cake, which is why I brought this lovely chocolate one. But I think in the back there are two more people who would like to have a piece too. There were two strippers coming to the party, but it looks like there may be too many people here now. It seems like there are at least two hundred people who couldn’t wait to celebrate this too. I could call and get two more, but to do that I would need more money too. And, too, I really think it would be smart to get three or four instead of just two more. I am pretty sure you got two of the gift I brought, but I made sure I remembered to put the receipt in there too. I know I have told you congratulations two times already, but I wanted to tell you a third time too. Now, about the word broked. Surprise! This is a party to celebrate your inability to subtract $0.96 from $1.01 and give me back my change, a nickel. And look at all these presents we brought (don't worry - you don't need to count them) to commemorate the fact that you didn’t need to use your actual brain at all. It’s hard I know. I saw in your eyes, at your first glance, that you thought I was an idiot who had given you too much and the smirk when you thought you'd type that shit in the register so you didn't have to be the one to tell me that I was a dumbass. And I also saw the recognition in your eyes when the register TOLD you to give me a nickel. I brought these balloons because my heart broke a little for you. You just graduated high school like…yesterday…and here you are wondering how to make change for the absolute smallest amount over a dollar possible. Your math teacher’s ears must be burning right now, knowing how we are basking in your dedication to second grade arithmetic. What do you mean this isn’t a real party? I didn’t figure you’d put two and two together. Surprise! I gathered all of your friends to celebrate your delusion. We each brought a gift that represents yet another way you refuse to walk the talk. Mine is a recommendation that you focus more on your kid and less on the dick, but hey…that’s just me. I heard some other people brought similar suggestions regarding you and your kid vs. school, you and your kid vs. drinking with the girls…you know things along those lines. Yes, a man is going to jump out of this fake cake because all the guests here already know which part you really want in your mouth…what the icing on the cake is for you. We all came for the money shot anyway. I didn’t blow up the condoms yet because I figured – not only are you full of hot air but you seem pretty well versed on the blowing of multiple things. So I guess if anyone ever needs a Surprise You Suck party I’d be the girl to call. I can plan the shit out of a party, but not stemming from the sheer desire to make you happy, the planning and executing calm me and they are always for me – never for you. Sorry (sorta). |
Day 19 Prompt: Write a story that includes fish sticks in some central way. Yup, that's right. Fish sticks. Frozen, fried fish sticks Ahhh...head to head challenge means to use my head...to be myself. And so....I did. It's more...a twisty prologue to frozen, fried fish sticks. (Shit! How quickly I forget to fast, those sorta-ellipses are just so yummy.) There's this band. A Wavy City band...a school of six. Put your hands together for.... Fish Styx Oh mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long line of that pole Fishermen have put an end to my coasting and I fear I’m all alone Oh mama, I can hear you a crying that I really should have known That worm is coming down from above and I can’t hold back too long I’m yanked up, the hook is in, they've finally caught me The fisherman who had no food retrieved me for family Never more to swim and play This will be the end today of the hungry man. Oh mama, I've been long in this box and had a friend thrown on my head Fisherman has got em dead and alive now it’s for sure filling me with dread Dear mama, I can hear you crying that I really should have known That worm is coming down from above and I can’t hold back too long I’m yanked up, the hook is in, they've finally caught me The fisherman who had no food retrieved me for family Never more to swim and play This will be the end today of the hungry man. Oh mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long line of that pole Fishermen have put an end to my coasting and I fear I’m all alone. I’m yanked up, the hook is in, they've finally caught me The fisherman who had no food retrieved me for family Never more to swim and play This will be the end today of the hungry man, the hungry man. Don’t yank me so, Oh no No, no, no, no Oh mama, don’t let him eat me Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no, no [Embed For Use By Upgraded+]
I made a list today of songs to fill the remaining eleven days. Lists calm me, probably in ways music never could. I ended with way more than eleven which surprised me. And then, not to my surprise due to the current state of mind that is generalized throughout my home right now, many came from a certain time in my life. Many were from the same artists. This one though, this one fills me up. With what – I am not even sure. All manner of happy things rise up inside me and want to burst free. I am not well acquainted with happy things. Skeason is skeason and happy is happy and never the twain shall meet. There was a brief moment in my young adulthood where delusion overshadowed unhappiness. Except that’s not quite correct. It wasn't delusional happiness that I bought into, it was real happiness, I just didn't follow the directions. Ahhh, such is life. During this period of fantasy enlightenment, sex was still…well…fucking awesome. The mere thought of sex was awesome. The thought of anything resembling sex was fucking awesome. It was new from beginning to end. Instead of dampened acceptance, wet panties were an unshakable distraction. It was great. And at the time, Husband A was only Best Friend. You know all the bullshit…I liked him and he liked me…we weren't together, but we were meant to be. (HA HA HA! There is not enough ironic nor actual laughter in the world to make it so I didn't mean that poem) I live in Hickville, USA. Teenagers drive around drinking or drive around getting high. Maybe on a good night you drive from one place to another either drinking or getting high. There was a radio DJ that came on the R&B station at 11 pm. Mr. Loverman. Oh he was awesome. He played his slow jams and spoke to us in his slow jam voice and it was all sex pouring out of the radio. And when you are bursting with it to begin with, sitting inside it can be wonderful. He had his little theme music that he played to signal it was time for Mr. Loverman. It was amazing. It fulfilled all purposes in our life at that time, feeding all kinds of our addictions…killer stoner music….the weirdo growing addiction between Husband A and I, that would alienate many ‘a people…plus...something on the radio that was commercial free, score! The intro music to Mr. Loverman’s show was this song’s instrumental version. Though I like this one much better. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] And I SWEAR I have done things in my life other than fuck and cop a buzz. Just...apparently not to music. |
| What is with me and those three little fucking periods? I am forcing a fast. A sorta-ellipses fast. Sorta because I am, undoubtedly NOT, censoring things out. So they are not marking an absence. Quite the opposite. They mark a … (oh shit – I just did it.) moment of renovation, revision, evolution and sometimes resolution to my thoughts before they are released, be it verbally or written. But… (shit) I find that sometimes (perhaps when I am feeling more introspective than usual) my character count is at least thirty percent periods. Insert joke about my character and percentage of periods. What is going to happen, without question, is that I am going to latch on to some other little thing. Perhaps the parentheses which have definitely announced their presence in this bitch so far, or chances are, it will be the hyphen. Or sentences with toooooo many little clauses and independent sections. Oh well – my blog – my overly complex sentence structure. P.S. My money is on …(shit) hyphens, or wait, do I mean clauses (do I ever know what the fuck I mean – not if you ask me!) Today I went to the school to do some more preparations for carnival (Ha! Carnival….(shit) perhaps a bit of an exaggerated name). There are room moms and then this year there is a room mom in charge of all the room moms. She snagged this low-hanging fruit because the rest of us want nothing to do with it. Whether or not I have the capabilities to manage 32 room moms… (shit) has no influence on my desire to do so, of which I have none. The women around here are fucking awful. Regardless… (shit) she wanted this job and now she sucks dirty ass at it. I feel slightly bad for her, only slightly because she isn’t all that awesome to begin with. After all, I am a bitch, and though I will operate within the rules you give to me… (shit) it is only WITHIN these rules that I will be, not exactly where you tell me to. I came home and tweaked all of our class’s decorations to be just… (shit) slightly different than she desires, but not enough to make her speak up. That’s the thing about her… (shit) she tells you she will speak up, but when it actually matters… (shit) well that’s a whole other animal. It was soooo much fun to change them. Truly.
Day 18 Prompt: Don't write! Read! Go back and look over all the prompts, all the instructions, the objectives, and the requests I have made of the players. Read the comments I have made on your blog entries and the comments I have made on the blog entries you haven't read. So today he told us to read, and read I did, but I am me and I must write. And so here we go… (shit) I was able to draw only one conclusion … (shit) the most obvious conclusion… (shit) Andre’s bar is not a bar. No – it is a lair. And if you walk at a distance of exactly 17 inches from the wall down the right side of the hallway on the way to the bathroom, you will trigger phase one and disappear into the floor. The first thing you will see… (shit) is a sign that says, “You’ve just been shanghaied” because that rocks and if you didn’t know it then you NEED to know it. It’s hard to make your way to that little light you think you might see because you are constantly slipping on all those fucking banana peels. All those peels. When you do make it to the doorway that is allowing the tiniest bit of light to shine through, you hear a sinister laugh on the other side. Trembling, you press your eye to the hole and try to see what lurks on the other side. Brother Nature   is crouched in the corner of the room, wringing his hands. Bats and other nefarious creatures… (shit) tiny vampires I think… (shit) swoop around his dirty robes and he mumbles incoherently to himself, or perhaps to the shadows lurking behind his cauldron. Hardly breathing you close your eyes and focus on his words. He laughs, and begins to whisper about his next spell. The fools in the bar above were already hooked on his special brew and they had no control over their participation. He had them and he was going to wring em for all they were worth. Starting by hording all the extra herbs they had brought as payment, and definitely not warning them to dry those herbs as they may be needed later. Mwah hah hah. Next he was going to pit them all against each other. The walls would fall away revealing the carefully constructed cages surrounding them. He would offer to lock someone up for a… (shit) nominal fee and not let them out again unless they too could pay. “Mwah hah hah… (shit) they think they wanna fundraise??? Then let there be fundraising!” Cue all the lightning and scurrying rats, as he pulled puppet strings that directed hands into herb baskets against their will. And since there is no way for him to communicate with the poor saps, they would never know what was going on. They would be in the dark, unable to read a missive. “Mwah hah hah. I was purposefully clear so you would think I was purposefully duplicitous.” Don’t even ask what you would have found in the other room.
Speaking of the carnival… (shit) I was speaking of that way up there right?? I think so. Speaking of the carnival… (shit) I wish other people who agree to volunteer for shit would then volunteer for said shit. Or just don’t say it. I don’t look down on you because you don’t want to… (shit) or cannot volunteer. It is something I do because I want to do it, that doesn’t mean I think you are required to do it. But don’t fucking tell me you are going to if you have absolutely no intention of following through. Good god, this isn’t OUR school. We are not all cliqued up and I am not going to spread rumors about you if you don’t do it. We are grown ass men and women who know that committing to something means YOU ARE COMMITTED TO SOMETHING. Cuz… (shit) here’s the thing. I AM judging you now. I AM talking shit about you now. Not for your lack of volunteerism, but for your lack of common courtesy. I hope I see you the afternoon of the carnival. If you will notice by all of those coats at the door, I DID NOT check my attitude. It's the clowns that are gonna come and take me - not the men in white coats...(shit) [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Day 17 Prompt: I was born to _______________. I was born to run. Not like athletic running….no, no! There is that meme that goes around that says: “If my body is ever found on a jogging trail, just know I was murdered elsewhere and dumped.” That could not be more on point for me. But strapping on your Nikes and your Fit Bit isn’t the only way to run….to flee. I run into chaos and run away from serenity. I run into darkness like my name is Vlad. I run from reality and into self-imposed constructs. I run from that which beckons and down the treacherous path. I run from big dogs. I run from connection. I dash to Home Depot to build walls. I am chased by deadlines yet race toward responsibility. I run from what is wanted, even by me. I run through what is expected. I run from motherhood and chase family. I run from needs in order to give. I run from seven because it ate nine. I run from communication and rush to confront. I zigzag the pot shots taken yet lap back around to throw my own from behind. I run from gravy like it’s the plague. I sprint from bigots and rush to hate. I run my mouth. I run myself ragged. I run out of gas, I run out of steam, and I run out of ways to refill. I run circles around some people, and run to hide from others. I run life’s fucking gauntlet and now my post has run its course.
God. Kid A and Kid B are sick again. Yes, again. No I think I mean STILL. Since December 7th. It is sucking the life out of me. Truly. And Husband A is home every day by noon. It is too much. Too much fucking with my routine. Too many things in my personal space. I need a moment where people go where they are supposed to go. Just a moment. My sanity demands such. And since I immerse my family, against their will, in music from the 80’s every chance I get, I am gonna choose this…after all it is ALL their fault my house is so crowded. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
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