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.
I would like to say something or so I say... but after the my not so Happy 40 B-day two days ago I have realize that it has to get better soon.
ReplyDeleteI can't say anything to make you feel better, but at least I can say something to make you laugh and think others get worst. I like the honesty in your words as much as the sensation on my car when I decide that my 4 runner is a powerful SUV and use my husband car to show him the power of mine. Yes, he has a small Honda and I get my 4 Runner over the bumper and a little more of his car, still I was not upset, I just decide to vent my frustrations of so many years of trying to make him get a little sense in his head about how his stupid decisions affect my intelligent ones. Now, that can be think again because if I have been so intelligent in first place I wouldn't have ruined my first other car since both are in my name... but what the hell, I'm not the one in the smash car. I wish I can see him explaining to every person who ask him how it happens, hahahahaha.
I thought from day one of the 40 I will be a happy person, little did I remember that I can have more years but still have to carry the weight of be me, I think I should diet outside and inside. Some days I can't even stand myself, some days I love myself too much, sometimes I just want the world to stop breathing just to see how many of that people who gets on your nerves can survive the masacre... I hope very little, I really do. I could live with only me, at least I wouldn't have no one bothering me with anything.
I would love to have a lover, a real good one, that makes me feel loved, and cares for me and my things and called me princess, who cares about being independent and alone, I think I'm alone since day one in my life, I can't even remember been a happy child, a happy mother, a happy nothing. I'm not a happy person, never have been. I've always been so empty inside that I'm afraid to be in Alaska because I could get frozen on a street since the only heat I can get is from the hot climate in the Caribbean.
Now I even took your place to vent on my insatisfaction, which by the way is not correctly written but I don't know where is the error, so, let it for the spell-checking man to solve that one too.
Anyway, I have never use Maxipads to clean up the mess but once I did have to use it in place of toilet paper, since I have none and was in a public restroom. That makes me think that they are more useful than I thought so, even when my period stop and go someday soon to wherever all the periods go in some moment of our lives, I'll keep some Maxipads on hand just to get creative in other purposes.
I have google my name, so I think I will create some info on me on wikipedia, at least it will have some info, important about me and not the random stuff I think and write.
Frances, we should stop taking life so serious, we will not make it alive from it anyway. BTW, I should take some English classes again, just to remember the use of verbs, past and present tense... sometimes for me is the same, I'm not sure if it is like the movies when things start from day 40 and then go back, oh well. No body is going to care about it after we die... OR SO I SAY