A Serious Confession

I have been letting fear rule parts of my life for a long, long time. I couldn't accurately guess when it started but it must have been around middle school age. Maybe it was when I got on stage to try out for the middle school production of Our Town and completely forgot the monologue that, as a 12 year old, I was out of my league and completely drowning it. I mean... Shakespeare? REALLY? I don't remember exactly what it was, but I certainly didn't understand what they were talking about... I just had no idea what to do, and no one to ask for help from.

Sometimes when I see the garbage people pass off as "crafting" or "art" I just want to tell them they're fucking terrible.

I mean.... slapping stickers on something isn't art, you fucktard. Otherwise, my three year old daughter is probably still more talented than you.

Whoa. You put made bingo cards into a really shoddy (and shitty) looking lampshade. I bet your decor is awesome...

I also bet your house is yellowed with cigarette smoke and even your mangy cats have emphysema.

Yes, I get it. This makes me a bad person. Whatever. At least I'm a bad person who is creative. And has the good sense not to post garbage online and pretend I'm fucking awesome.

Aaaaand it's time for bed for this grumpy bitch. Maybe the 90-year-old hips 'God' placed in my 25 year-old-body will stop hurting at some point and I will stop wanting to inflict physical harm on everyone.

Upside:24 days til I get a kitten!

Somehow writing that entire post pulled all of the get-up-and-go right out of me. And now I'm half-watching Joe Biden talk to some guy on channel 2 on accident (he's not talking on accident, I'm watching on accident) and I realize that I don't really care because whatever. He's not Sarah Palin, therefore, I'm alright with him.

I think that's going to be my basic judge of human character. It will be two simple questions:
1. Are you Sarah Palin?
2. Do you like Sarah Palin?

If both answers are "fuck, no!" you're alright in my book, friend.

Aw, hell. It's time for bed.

A completely different post than I planned on writing, even though I hadn't planned anything at all.

I have too much to say, but it seems that none of it means anything... it's all just words and no meaning.

Writing it out is pointless but here I am, hoping to make some sense of the thoughts tumbling around in my brain... and now I don't even remember what I wanted to say in the first place. Either seasonal depression has left, or the change in my birth control was a good move. Either way, I'm feeling better than I think I have felt in ages, but honestly, with mild depression, it seems like you were down forever and you never actually felt up. Ever. It's all doom, and gloom and unending, unrelenting darkness and misery and you WILL NEVER FEEL BETTER. And then you do, and you think "hm... maybe it wasn't as bad as I though? Maybe I was never that depressed."