Monday, October 25, 2010

Adventures of a once dark and cynical mistress

I've been real happy lately. So basically, I find that writing is a little harder for me now. Being that I drew on my dark, cynical and depressed nature for material which made it, in my opinion, witty, funny and dryly sardonic. That and the fact that I no longer drink, there are no more adventures in which I get shit housed, wake up next to a guy I barely know and therefor have some writing material, what with my gruesome feelings of loneliness and depravity. What have I turned into?!

I'm actually glad that things are going so well, though, regardless of my need for self loathing for writings sake. I just don't find my happy life as funny or interesting. I work, I go home, I hang out with the boyfriend, take care of the kids, get high, pass out, lather, rinse and repeat. It's weird, I went for so long being angry and hating life, and not because of my failed relationships and one night stands, though I do miss those...the one night stands, that is, NOT the failed relationships as I consider those the stepping stones to the awesome that I have since become. The excitement of meeting a new guy, dirty making out at the bar, dry humping in the parking lot, leaving a note thanking him for the hot sex and slipping out into the wee hours of the morning while he slumbers. Ah, good times. Now I feel the excitement when my boo sparingly decides he wants his D in my G. Oh how the times have changed.

In all seriousness, things are going well. After his stint in rehab and a couple of months readjusting to sober life, he seems to be standing up straight, so to speak, working and learning how to have fun without the aid of drugs or alcohol. I, on the other hand, still smoke to my heart's content. I can't help it, I don't sleep otherwise. And I just like getting high, guess I can't really church it up. I should probably put the pipe down for a while soon though, I feel my blonde roots showing through more and more even though I only smoke at night. My stoner retardedness has gotten the best of me lately. Also maybe a reason for the drop in blahging...I'm not up all night, feeble from insomnia and pissed off at the world for the lack of good late night television. Go figure. But I digress.

So the kids are doing real well. So well, in fact that my 13 year old sometimes emo, sometimes obnoxious giant of a kid has been invited and accepted into the National Junior Honor's society and has decided to enroll in a highly academic charter school for his duration of high school. The princess has been doing quite well for herself as well. While she rocks a faux hawk with confidence, as a result of a pesky and persistent lice problem, she's getting straight A's. Although it is quite easy to make straight A's in the 4th grade, she's doing so well her teacher gave her an A in writing, which she informed me she never does, and told me that she is basically a perfect student. Which made me wonder if she had the right kid. She's also playing the violin, which makes me so happy because I played it for many, many years.

Note to all the bitches whom have judged this book by it's cover: HA! My kids are awesome and well rounded and doing great in life in general. So suck on that.

The only thing that's missing is enough money to fully pay my own bills so I don't have to depend on the maternal unit so much. Though I see that light at the end of the tunnel as I've been busier at work and J has starting working a little more full time lately. So yay for that.

So my dark thoughts have been pushed back to the depths of my huge brain while happy thoughts fill the forefront and infect the rest of my mind with flowers and rainbows and puppies, oh my! I need to find a balance between darkness and happy. We'll see how that goes.

Now I must sit my happy ass at work for another 3 hours, after which J will take me shopping for a new hoody (i love hoodies more than shoes) and take me to a nice dinner. See?! Happy. Ugh.

xoxo

Monday, October 04, 2010

A search for...something

Oftentimes I wonder why I haven’t found myself yet. 31 and I feel like I am finally coming into my own, but how am I to know really. And the fact that I have to question whether or not I've found myself, whatever that means, also shows that I may have not found myself.

In my current relationship though, I feel more at ease and have easily fallen into the wife-mother-woman paradox, more or less, though the wife part is technically girlfriend but I feel as if I've now been married for 10 years! My first relationship was all first everything's so there wasn't much time to figure anything out. The second relationship was, well, I don't really know what that was. It was me on the rebound searching for someone to love me with stars in my eyes and blinders to cheaters on. Words falling out of an untruthful mouth upon trusting ears. That's what that was. This one, well this one has been a flurry of partying, hangovers, drugs and sobering up. So now is the good part where we can actually relax and just be in the relationship, so to speak. Basically, I couldn't be happier at the moment.

There is still something tugging at the back of my mind though. The loss of my self in all this mothering, girlfriending, managing shit.

Through all this "who am I" shit, I’ve figured out what my problem is. At the peak of my teenage-hood I was impregnated. It was the second semester of my senior year as I was really coming into my own. I graduated, 7 months pregnant, got married to my high school sweetheart and had my son. Three and a half years later, in the midst of our seperation, I became with child again.

Note to self: never console an ex over a dead relative with your vagina.

9 months later, my daughter was born. I was 22. Having just started on a sexual quest I was abrubtly shoved back into the screaming world of motherhood. Or at least more so than I was before. Strapped down with two kids and a husband, how is one to find what you want to be? You're hard to find amongst cries of “Mommy, I’m hungry!”, “Mommy wipe my ass!”, “Mommy, I want, I want, I want!” what’s a mother to do, but delve into the role the universe so obviously wanted me to star in and try, hard as it may be, to embrace it. Thirteen years later, as I write this, I still wonder, “Who am I?"

Although given that my youngest is almost in her double digits, age wise, I do believe that in 9, hopeully, short years I will be left to my own devices and my lifelong search for self as the kiddos embark on their own adventures in horrorland on a quest to find themselves.

All I can say is, I’m as lost as the rest of you, but I'm happy, so that counts for something, right? Right?

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