'Cause I got stuff to say. And when I say it, I want you here listenin'.
I actually have a cowgirl outfit quite similar to this.
The Blogging thing is hard for me sometimes; in the beginning it was easier to be honest on my blog and to say how I really felt about things, but as more and more people have started reading it (including family and close friends), it gets harder to do that. It’s like when you go to a new city and in the beginning you can act like a big asshole because nobody knows you; but as you become a member of the community, you reel it in a bit. At least I do. Either that or move to a new town so I can keep being an asshole.
Mostly, my creativity gets in a rut sometimes; I just don’t have enough feelings about things to be able to write well. I find I need to be angry or humorously annoyed to be able to write really well. When I’m just plodding through my relaxing summer, there isn’t much to say. Then one day I wake up & realize that my blog feels like a chore, and that is when I take a break. Or post really simple stuff, or dwell in my childhood by revisiting Sesame Street episodes that make me happy.
While on my short break, I discovered that I am seething with feelings! Yes, it is true! At the moment, I find myself mostly pissed off. Here are some of the things I am pissed off about:
The stupid 20 year old girls in choir who won’t shut up and even have the nerve to talk on the cell phone. DURING REHEARSAL!
The teacher on my team (who brought the dog to work) who won’t shut up when I am trying to run a meeting, and the other teacher who sits across from her and shouts back at her. It’s like Cage Match, and I’m the referee.
The way Shepherd Boy appears in my dreams unexpectedly, and then acts like we’ve been talking for the past 13 years instead of this void of silence that I hate so much.
I’m mad at alcohol, because why does it have to be something that is so nice and so fun and oh, this red goes so nicely with the veal, and then suddenly one day you wake up more hung-over than you have ever been in your life and realize it’s a problem for you? Why couldn’t it just stay fun and easy? And I can’t ever go back to fun and easy, because I am past that. Fuck you, ETOH!
When I wrote you the long email about my MS diagnosis, this comment, which I guess was the best you could do: “Wow, that is a lot to digest.” Yeah, sorry my multiple scle-fuckin-RO-sis is so hard for you. Guess I overestimated you. Don’t talk to me; if you do, I’ll just pretend I was talking about someone else.
Although I feel like I have a right to make jokes like this, and that makes me happy.
Now if I can get a few scary dolls, teddy bears, or thumb-sucking teenage girls (my best rant ever, and worth the click) back into my life, I’ll really have some fodder for the mill.
Until then, please just lie on top of me and wiggle so I can feel better and release some of this anger.