::Let Me Clear My Throat::

Contrary to popular culture, I will not be writing this blog from the outside of a moving car, because that's STUPID. Let's get this show on the road...pun not intended but that's funny anyway. Whatever. Hooooooooooly shitbricks, where do I begin... The last few months have been... challenging. Life has been a minefield, and I've had my face blasted off more times than I'm ok with.  They say things come in threes, and I was hit with a double, and at this point I can say with certainty that getting hit by a bus would have been more convenient. I'll start from the top, since shit rolls downhill. In early July, after being physically, mentally, financially and emotionally wrung the fuck out, I lost my job. On one hand, I was completely blindsided.  I had no warnings, no misconduct, no indication that this was coming.  On the other, for weeks before that, things were rough in the office. I had asked..begged for a raise. I felt justified in asking, I know I d...

Being single allows you lots of time to reflect.  For instance, I reflect on my past relationships.  What did I learn from them?  What could I have done differently?  How did they change me as a person? That sort of stuff.  This sort of reflection allows you to face truths about your relationships that maybe you didn't see before. My truth hauled off and smacked me in the face, only because I didn't want to face it before, even though I always knew it was there.  You ready for it? It's a doozy: A man has never been in love with me. Ever. After a good handful of serious relationships throughout my teenage/adult life, this revelation seems random and hard to believe, I know, but after really looking into it, I'm sad to announce that it's true.  Perhaps we should explore this, complete with bullet points for clarity... My first very serious relationship was with Baby Daddy #1 , God rest his soul. I was seventeen, and we lasted just shy of 3 years. ...

: Before I begin, I would like to state for the record that since my last post, my celibacy remains intact, despite the night that Flaco spent in my bed last week.  I am that damn awesome, and I will absolutely take that cookie, thankyouverymuch.: Tonight's entry is brought to you by the word "Troubled", and also by the phrase "Melancholy Bitch Slap".  Follow along if you dare. I am...utterly confused.  I don't know how else to word it.  I just don't understand.  Allow me to gloss over a few details to make this jibber-jabbering mess look like English. There's a boy, called "D".  A small piece of this is about him in particular, but mostly about boys in general when it comes to me.  D and I met through a friend over a year ago, but I never had a lot of interest, so we didn't talk much. Two weeks ago he texted me out of the clear blue after months of not talking, and immediately we clicked like a couple of magnets. We talked non stop...

People around me are gonna start needing protective gear, cuz my bomb clock is tick tick ticking. As hard as I'm trying to stay cool and collected, my golden, bucolic self seems to be in a constant state of rumble.  To ask why would only bring a barrage of frenzied answers, so I'm gonna try to break it all down and maybe then it will make sense to everyone, including myself.   I don't seem to be able to escape being everyone's go-to girl when they want something.  Whether it's money, sex, attention, time, rides, advice, this or that task, favors...someone always seems to have a hand stretched out, palm up, with a horrible case of the "gimmies".  I am feeling cornered and suffocated with something or someone constantly on top of me. Not only am I being suffocated, but then at the end of the day after I've been raided, there's nothing left for me but an empty fucking bag.  I know life's unfair but damn, I should be getting at least a littl...

It's crazy how one day I can be waxing philosophical about karma and anger and how much better life has gotten, and the next day, all that luck seems to crumble and I'm left feeling violently homicidal. It seems to be just my luck that when I take two steps forward, I get knocked back at least three, like some Higher Power is determined to keep me in my predetermined "place".  Did I inadvertently piss someone off in this life or another?  Because I can't for the life of me figure out why I have to claw my way out of a hole everytime I turn around.  It's exhausting and damn frustrating. Whatever transgressions I've committed in whatever life, I truly feel as if my repentance has been paid, and then some.  Given that, why the hell am I still getting bombs dropped on me just as I'm starting to get ahead?  Can a girl ever just catch a break and be able to gain some footing, or am I destined to go through life always watching my step?

  You know that phrase 'Short Fuse'?  It has a cousin called 'Breathe On Me Wrong And I Blow To Smithereens'.  If you look it up, you'll find a picture of me, with a big crooked smile and a deranged look in my eye.  Am I a lunatic?  Yep, probably. Shit knows these days I sure feel like one.  That song by Limp Bizkit, ya know, "Break Stuff"? It  has been playing on a constant loop in my head like a broken record for the last two weeks.  I can't put my talon on what, exactly, the problem is, I just know that I feel like I'm gonna blow, like ALL. THE. TIME.  And if you're dumb enough to be in my crosshairs while I'm raging, you best throw on your riot gear cuz I'll probably run you over just for being in my way.  I'll take a deep breath and put on my psychotherapist hat for a second, and assume that a combo of stress and PMS are probably to blame for this episode.  A lot has fallen into my lap lately and I haven't had much c...

I'm starting to believe that someone surgically implanted a live grenade inside my body while I was asleep. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I have found myself angry...sometimes irrationally so.  To clear a few things up, life has been pretty uneventful, so I can't say one thing in particular is bugging me, and no, I don't feel depressed.  It's like I can see underneath the anger, and nothing is there except harmless space, kinda like some low hanging clouds. I'm not in a constant state of pissed, but it takes nearly nothing to get me to the point of wanting to rip someone's face off.  Driving?  I get ornery. Driving in traffic ?  Hide the guns.  These are just examples. Just now I yelled at my poor old doggy because he headbutted his way through my closed bedroom door, but he only did it because he likes to be with me. Like I said, irrational.   I wish I could put my finger on what has me in this funk, but I keep coming up with ...