So here I am again writing. Less than 48 hours after I've started this blog I'm writing my 3rd entry. Let's jump out of my tight wearing kindergarten class and join my "adulthood" shall we? Now could I have planned a better metaphor than what just happened? I hesitated typing and looked down at my hand. I've been wearing a cheapo ring on my left middle finger for a weeks now, every since I bought it. Nothing special, pretty fake stones that go all around in different colors. I believe the fine craftsmen at Target's third world country jewelery supplier made this ring. But as I was admiring it I noticed it. There was no doubt it would happen. Time would make sure it did. One of the crappy little colored stones is now gone. This innocent distraction that twirled on my finger now only pisses me off. Despite all the other lovely ones left all I notice is the one that is missing. How FUCKING typical is that for me?? Not that my constant wearing made one of the little glass gems come unglued but now I don't want to wear it anymore. You would be hard pressed to even notice it was gone. I surely would have to point it out to you. By the way, Molly is really snoring. Just a minute ago she was running and trying to bark in her sleep. If I could bring my pack of dogs, Molly and Maude with me everywhere, I wouldn't be writing this blog. Undiagnosed ADD just kicked in and we're back....
Since my knee has been bothering me so much I've noticed that things have gotten out of balance in my life again. Usually I live in the physical in a lot of ways. My job is merely moving things from one place to another and making wiping motions. This is cleaning. Think about it the next time you're doing some household chores. I listen to music (old music, which I'm getting tired of), I watch TV (mostly cartoons now since there is nothing new on TV I like), and of course listen to podcasts. But these are not singular activities, I am moving at the same time. This might be doing dishes, working on crafts, walking the dogs but my mind is occupied while my body is moving. Lately, however, this body doesn't want to move. The knee is really squawking and making a lot of noise. Guess who's picking up the slack? The whole noggin is getting quite a work out lately. The brain, she is not content to do solitary duty, she drags the emotions along for the ride. For you see, this old broad is just barely keeping her shit together and it's been this way for as long as I can remember. The scale has tipped.
You see, I don't feel like I own my life. I never have. First I was the property of Dave and Ruth and when I turned 18, they signed the rights over to me. Property ownership is a daunting task. First you are giddy with excitement, look at all the cool stuff I can put in it. YES, I'm talking about boys and their, you know, dingily dangles. For awhile I couldn't afford the good "furniture" so I was picking a lot of it off the side of the road, if you know what I mean?? I'd get it home and it would be comfortable at first but by the time morning came, I saw why it was in the garbage. Worn out and not nearly as pretty as I thought. But wait, we'll talk more about the early days of promiscuity later. But that reminds me....
Sometimes I feel like I'm the crazy one and some days I feel like I'm the only sane person in the world. If you don't react to the barrage of crap life throws at your doorstep, you're the fucked up one, not me, you. And you think that by rationalizing fucking strangers on a regular basis is normal to distract yourself from your miserable life changes anything, go ahead but you'll never sit on my couch or my toilet. Being a whore in your 20's is one thing. Being a whore in your 50's ain't nothing but sad. Please refer to my previous blog to understand this outburst.
I'm starting to think that being nice is way overrated. I don't mean become an asshole. I get a lot of genuine pleasure when I think my words, my attitude can help somebody else. But this false face we strut around with all the time in order to fit into civilized society, maybe it's to blame. Maybe if people were allowed to vent a little a long the way we wouldn't have dumb fucks blowing themselves up and teenagers going on shooting sprees in their high school libraries. Fucking rules. They are everywhere. Guess who in my life are avid rule followers....I, on the other hand, revel in the shades of gray. Boring myself again.
Alright, my impulse is to delete all this but I'm not going to. It's not cohesive and it just a perfect example of being off balance.
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