I don't care anymore. Or so I say. (possible future slam poetry thingamabob)

I don't care anymore.  Or so I say.
Which is why I deleted the small diatribe I had written in the comment section after your post on Facebook.  Because I'm cutting back on my swearing and you're a stupid, selfish, self absorbed piece of shit and really, this is Facebook and not a forum for airing out my grievances over your absolute idiocy. And really, I can't possibly let you know how much it hurt me to realize I meant so little and someone else means so much.
Also, my 12 year old daughter might see this on my Timeline.
As might the police. And we can't give them probable cause now, can we?

None of this shit is worth getting worked up over. Or so I say.
Delete Delete that drafted damned Tweet
about the importance of women's rights and how I want my daughter to grow up proud and independent and wise and that this mysogynistic, drivel coming out of your mouth inspires me want to slap the living crap out of you and wonder if you had been hatched? Because no one with a loving mother would ever let such hate out of their mouth.  But I don't want to seem too angry, or without a sense of humor, or that I condone violence.
Besides it wouldn't fit in 140 characters or less anyway.

I don't care anymore.  Or so I say.
So I find myself blogging about my day and the honesty slowly starts to be edited out as I moderate my thoughts and words for the audience that might read it today or the future employer who might randomly Google my name while doing my background check and discover that I once used a stack of Maxipads to clean up the mess I made when I disconnected the pipes under the bathroom sink to unclog a drain and had forgotten to bring a bucket.  What kind of message would that send?
Insert Picture of Cat with Funny Caption here. Thoughts expressed for the day.

None of this shit is worth getting worked up over.  Or so I say
Then I find myself with glass of Bourbon in hand, staring at this blank piece of paper, cool crisp white pages, bound by moleskin and with the just the slightest hint of texture beneath my fingers.  My extra fine, rolling ball, Pilot Precise V5 pen at the ready. And the day starts to write itself before me, in print or the hurried the cursive that tells me it's been an especially trying day and that I have a lot of words to get out before the tears I'm spilling make everything a smudgy mess.  Words I need to express without having anyone judge me, no spell check to tell my I spelled mysogynistic wrong, or that it may, in fact, not even be a real word because  SPELL CHECK WAS OBVIOUSLY INVENTED BY A MAN WHO HATES WOMEN AND APPARENTLY, LABELS.
Also, paper burns and no one has to know.

Just finished reading Jennifer "The Bloggess" book and have to admit it was the funniest thing I've read in awhile.  I actually gave myself an asthma attack while reading one of her stories outloud to my daughter because I was laughing so hard.  Also - NOTHING in that book should have been read out loud to my daughter, or anyone under the age of 21.  But still.  Funny.  It made me really miss my writing.  I don't have any excuse as to why I don't do it anymore.  I have the time.  Maybe it's because I feel I have no life??  *ugh*
But I do.  I have some really great friends and really, it's me that needs to do more of the engaging life.

Another year has come and gone...

Wow - it's been almost a year since I've written anything in here.  I have mixed feelings about it.  I'm really tired of what I perceive to be everyone's incessant and narcissistic attempts to draw attention to themselves. Some of my favorite things to read are blogs, but let's face it - not everyone has the talent to write and I really don't want a blow by blow account of how you woke up, drove the kids to school, did laundry and then spent too much time on Facebook before you picked the kids up from school and made dinner, a carb laden mac and cheese with an over cooked side of wilty veggies that you posted a picture of.  Also, shit happens to all of us - and the occasional blog about bad things happening and how they empowered you to change is awesome, but an unending chain of blog entries about how THIS time everything is going to be different and you really will GETTHEHOUSECLEANLOSEWEIGHTFINISHYOURKNITTINGPROJECTSDECLUTTERTHEGARAGEANDGOVEGAN - I think I'm afraid of falling in to the latter category.  I have started so many projects/diets/goals/crusades that all seem to peter out in an ever shortening amount of time.  I'm afraid to share what I think and feel anymore - because frankly, I think everyone will find it boring and repetitive.  Hell, I find it boring.  I've started at least 15 diets in the last few years, with the result that I am exactly 15 lbs fatter than the last time I swore I WILL NEVER GET THIS FAT AGAIN.  My house is a disaster area.  I can't remember the last time I changed the oil in my car.  My back deck looks like this -

(Yes.  that would be a deck chair and my firepit that I didn't cover or remove before Winter hit.)

I'm pretty sure this is what depression looks like.  On the bright side, I'm up to date on all the Game of Thrones books and the Sookie Stackhouse novels.  And I can Netflix like a motherfucker.  *sigh*

My Birthday is coming up next week and I've decided that I want to do something I've always dreamed of for my Birthday this year.  Something that will give me a sense of accomplishment and maybe open up the door to my dream future.  I want to sign up for a Creative Writing class and attempt to finish my first book for publication by my Birthday next year.  I'm putting it out there in writing hoping that the Universe will help me along in reaching my goal.  Also, I want to start updating my blog more often.  I promise to try and not be tedious.