Me Me Me It’s All About Me

This year, yesirree it fucking is.

I am going to start doing around here, the same shit I started doing at my last job when it became apparent that they wished I would just have the baby and fucking disappear.

THE MINIMUM AMOUNT POSSIBLE TO GET OVER.

For the past 8 years, I have devoted my life to my kids and this household. And I’m not saying I have regrets, although I do think there are times I could have made more time for myself. But when I did have some free time I didn’t use it wisely, and then we stopped sending Punksin to school and now free time is about 30 seconds in the bathroom, which is only 30 seconds because within 30 seconds of my ass hitting the toilet seat I hear a little high-pitched male voice outside the door plaintively wailing, “I need to go potty.” And it’s not like there aren’t other bathrooms he could go to! But the one upstairs he does not want to use by himself because I guess to him, our bedroom looks like a huge cavern, and he is not dealing with that shit alone.

So this year, Punksin has her swimming. The Tech Guru has become the Crossfit Lunatic and expects me to shop for all this different food and change everyone’s eating habits on a dime because he joined some eating challenge and FUCK THAT NO.

No. I am tired of MY shit being on the back burner. I am tired of people depending on me to the point where it seems like they can’t function if I am not involved. NO.

Punksin is 8. She will be 9 next month. She likes to help out a lot, so…her ass is starting to help out a lot. Of course, she likes SAYING she wants to help out but when she is actually called upon to do it, much whining and groaning ensues.

I don’t give a fuck.

Fucking, Austria, street sign

This has absolutely nothing to do with anything I wrote except that I say “fuck” a lot. This is a sign for a town in Austria and now that I know that it exists, it is on my list of place to visit, if only so I can stand next to the sign and take a picture.

The Tech Guru, he works his ass off outside the house, I get that. But I work my ass off INSIDE the house, hardle see other fucking adults, I’m NOT FUCKING PAID, I HAVE NO LIFE, and FUCK THAT TOO. You need special food, go buy it, cook it, eat it, have a blast with it, and when I get around to figuring out how to incorporate it more and more into our daily diet, I will work on that. But it is not a priority for ME just because it is a priority for HIM.

For me, this year, it is write write write. Do more creative shit that inspires ME, whether it’s listen to my friend play jazz, go to interesting philosophical talks, hang out with my extremely intelligent and equally obnoxious high school friends with whom I can be guaranteed a good time, and DOING MY OWN SHIT. I will also be taking weekend retreats. I am looking for cabins, small ones with heat a bed, a table, and not much else. WiFi not really necessary all the time, since I don’t need to be wasting time on FuckBook or looking at clothes. I NEED to write. I have been praying and praying and praying for the creative muse to hit and she finally bashed me upside the head and now it is MY JOB to take the shit in my head and put it out there.

I didn’t necessarily proclaim this as a New Year’s resolution because it’s not about 2013. It’s about life. Creating the life that I want to live and leaving the life behind that is making me so fucking miserable that the first thought in my mind when I wake up is usually, “Is it time to go back to bed yet?

FUCK THAT.

I can’t wait. I am nervous and excited and I think it will be good for me to…move on to the next phase.

Here I come.

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