There is no perfect mug, let’s just start there. There are better mugs, more functional, more pleasing to the artist eye, but that’s it. No perfection anywhere. The question I’m charged with today is how to remember this and let it settle in my bones slowly, calmly and accept it. I am not perfect, nor is anyone else. For some obnoxious reason I woke up today just knowing that I was a hopeless, worthless mess. No one should have the job of being around me, loving me or even working with me, because I’m awful. Can you please tell me where the fuck those days/weeks come from? While you’re at it, tell me what to do with my life. Please. I’ll keep thinking of ways to make mugs, challenge being that I’ll actually have to make one someday.
Three weeks in and yes, I’m blogging while I’m at work. I think that at 4:25p one should be able to do what one wants until 5:00p. So I am.
The next thing I don’t do well is: fit in with a political office of professionals. Oh wait, I am one. Shit. The difference is that I’m not a good politic. I don’t like it. Say what you mean people! If there are unwritten rules, fucking write them down so I don’t break them! Jesus, I feel like I’m in church. I keep waiting for something I can do well, but so far nothing has worked out, and this is no exception.
On the kid front, my daughter is home packing and plans to move out at 8p. Why you ask? Because I’m a crazy bitch and apparently being upset with her for skipping school, getting in trouble with a teacher for being mouthy, (different day) and not keeping me posted on where and what she is doing is too damn much for her to take! Is it bad that I’m kind of excited? Yea, I thought so. She’s 17, I really don’t have much recourse besides being a bitch! I’m supposed to go home after work and “talk to her”. What I really want to say is “don’t forget to write!” (Side note: I have no idea whether the exclamation point goes inside or outside of the quote). I also got a text today from my son (17 too, remember?) who is staying with a friends mom becuase he hates his dad and I will not let him live with me, (another looooong story) and their pipes burst so he needs a ride to take a shower. Really? WTF else. I am tired. Tiiiiiiiirrrreeeeeeeddddddd. I don’t have the capacity in my body to care or act like I care. I want to be left alone to knit, watch violent TV and yell at the dog.
Ready for bed, but a smidge too irritated with the female child to relax. I’m trying to remember if at 17 I was such a mouthy, evil obnoxious ass. I’m almost certain I was not. On the outside. Really. Considering I had two kids at that age, I couldn’t afford to piss too many people off, especially relatives. You know, the ones who are supposed to stick around and do the awful things to help that no one else will. They did, though I’m not sure why. I can honestly say that if my kids had kids now, I would abandon the shit out of them…all! No problem here, I’d just say ‘no thank you, I’m done and this is your problem. Didn’t my life serve as enough of a horrid warning?’ Jesus, the nerve of teenage girls these days. And yes, I just said ‘these days’.
On the semi-brighter side of things the new job hasn’t sent me into an all consuming panic attack yet. Of course it’s only been one day, but that is more than I expected. Apparently I underestimated my ability to deceive. I’ve been ready for bed since 6:15 and am somehow still awake which will stop soon. How long will I be able to keep the charade afloat? Time will tell, my friends, time will tell.
It’s a new freaking year, now what. There’s a lot of theoretical pressure surrounding a New Year. Resolutions and such. I usually say I won’t make a bullshit resolution and secretly do, though not saying it out loud means it’s not bound by any real expectations or hopes. If I were to resolve myself to do something, anything, this year it would be to become good at something…other than failing. Like knitting. I tried to start last night but after winding the yarn ball too tight I realized it was doomed. My first three attempts at casting on were too tight and I gave up by throwing the needles. Of course my completely talented and handsome boyfriend was better at it than me. Ironically, I’m trying to knit a scarf for him. Today I will try again. Alone. Tight ass yarn balls and all. New Year’s day with the dog, yarn balls in a tea cup (so they don’t roll around and tempt said dog), no kids or family and warm feet. Nice. If only I could enjoy it. I’m anxious and untalented. I suppose there are worse things. I’ll keep plugging along, if for no other reason than to just see what happens. My poor boyfriend.