Mastering the Art of Stumbling Into The Next Situation With Dignity

I hate when I don’t write for a long time then I have a back log of things to say and I can’t form a single thought and then I continue not to write then I have nothing to say at all. I think a lot but the fingers don’t move with my brain jive. They do actually move but only to pick things out of my teeth while clicking on the remote control. You know what I mean? Also my trusty little lap top might have gotten a virus or an Apple pandemic because it’s slow right now, I perhaps watched too much low brow porn and click bait in the form of Tasty recipes,  and now it can’t load the Netflix properly so now I’m on my daughter’s laptop and I don’t really have the feel of the lay of the land right yet and my fingers need to stretch out farther which feels uncomfortable and yet necessary. That’s actually a lesson I learned recently, stretch your fingers out farther and you’ll be surprised at what itch you’ll scratch, if you know what I mean. Or not, I don’t know what I mean either, I’m just nervously typing right now. (Psst, I actually do know what I mean but we can talk about it on my Tumblr blog from the secret menu).

On a side note, I’ve been listening to a lot of Elton John these days, in my car with the windows down, thinking about his stubby-ass genius fingers on a piano. Levon and Tiny Dancer, bro. Why did I forget about him?  Ruhhhh-spect. And Mad Man Across the Water, hands down, his best song ever: “Ya better get ya coat, dear, it looks like RAAAAAAAIIIIIIN, I’LL COME AGAIN NEXT THURSDAY AFTERNOOOOOON….” Dem lyrics tho, Bernie. I can totally sing along to that 70s pitch, definitely my era. I myself have like old wrinkly fingers now, tap doodling on a keyboard, which I respect, my own witchy ancient integrity and chipped nail polish, I’m super cool with that, you can pull the skin up on my knuckles and watch it deflate back to normal for the amount of time for an 8-track tape ca-chunk over to the rest of I, Robot Track 3 or whatever. Only 70s kids would get that sentence and the rest of you can call me later. I can teach you things.

Anyhoo, yes, what I need to say is forming. Being inert is a bitch. Being inert when you know what you need to be doing is a disgrace. That is the trajectory of my life until now. I’m old as fuck and only getting older with the rest of y’all and I realize I should have been taking on the bull by the horns prolly a long time ago but no! That “people pleaser” mentality is too ingrained and I’m not sure how I got it but it needs to stop. I honestly don’t remember my own parents specifically instructing me to suck all the dick standing in my way so I’m assuming it’s from one of society’s longstanding mores which should be revised in today’s climate. My feeling is that the only dick that needs to be sucked is the one you want to suck. If you can suck your own dick, you are golden. That goes proverbially, obvi, you know what I mean, be your own boss. If you can suck your own dick, literally, and I saw that on the internet, some boney-assed dude just curling up like a cooked shrimp, turning into the snake that eats itself, which! is what prolly broke my computer, then that mo-fo needs a proper job. Or not. That’s the thing about finding your truth. You never know where that path will lead. We’ll talk about that at another time.

Ahoy, back to point, I quit my job a couple of months ago,  but not because I didn’t like it, I loved it, but circumstances changed. I wasn’t doing the quality of the job I wanted to do with the new situation and it seemed there was no other way out than to bail. In doing so, I had to take a leap of faith that things would work out but I also had to know that things would get fucked up quite a bit. Bombshell, bitches, here’s the thing, don’t take on a business for yourself that you can’t manage properly, listen to feedback, and that’s all I will say about that situation.

I know some of you come her for the dating stories but I haven’t really had the heart for anything except! The universe has thrown me some recycled bone from my Tinder days. Which is nice cuz I don’t have to fish for it, just shave my armpits and vacuum the hallway to the bedroom a bit. That kind of low maintenance is all I ask for. But! I am slightly lonely these days though, I won’t lie. I don’t what the calling is cuz I’m self-proclaimed dyed-in-the wool single lady. However! I had a really cool regular-normal-by-the rules-no-boning date last week  with a dude that I was messaging with from the old OkC dating website but! The caveat is that he lives in a whole other city that is a plane ride away because of course, 8 billion people in the world. It’s weird how hard it is to find one. Maybe soon though, I’ll keep the windows open.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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