fuck this shit
fuck this shit
fuck this shit
I couldve too the time and effort to quote th e article directly , make links and be professional but I can’t be bothered, oh well, I’m just tired not up for it and can’t deal
Well… oajaky I DID get myself together enough for a couple quotes
and the only reason this got written just now, is because I accepted that the best i could do tonight was a bit half-ass. and it’s real
and cause the voice inside said speak up speak up right away, however way it comes or it’ll just never get said,
and cause sometimes I just want to SUCK at my job / life / whatever and not care !!!! well kinda, maybe not really, hm. i kinda want to be a “hot mess” though and make it okay – cause it… IS???
SURE IS. But I’m starting to hate that phrase though. “hot mess,” ew so overplayed
omg gues why I’m tired, I was up all night writing and then I got up so early and worked all day. And I didn’t cook dinner cause it was too much more work , i paid for someone else to make it for me, yay.
This morning I almost wore makeup but I thought nah, too much work. I wore an attractive, classic outfit though and that was fuckin-a good enough for me. I looked nice.
I almost considered going on a dating site cause i almost felt a bit lonely and one of the men at work today was flirting with me and i almost could’ve entertained the thought of a man but i was so tired and I thought nahhhh, too much work.
And I almost hit up may actual lover or whatever status it is, whatever but I thought naaaaaahhhhhh, too much work cauyase then i might have to
worry about how i look and fuck it
Then when I got home from work I wanted to go to the cafe to write and I almost changed into another outfit but that would’ve required too much thought and I took my hair down and it’s super long since I made up my mind I can’t cut it till my $2500 credit card is paid off
and when i took it down it was all kinda wack, didn’t look that great to me
and i almost wanted to do something to make myself look more cute
but it was too much work so i said fuck it, and i left the house
just like that, fiuck it
I’m not linking it on purpose. Not out for blood on her. I’m only after the principles. Google or WordPress search it if you really have to know.
I’m exhausted and I so feel like an old ass broad. I can barely sit sup, barely type. Did I just say “sup”? Yeah. Oops. Up.
Too much work to back space.
Today I saw some lady online who has a blog and she’s got like at least 1000 words bitching about all these many many young women sporting “I can’t adult today” tees and posters and whatever.
I didn’t have the energy to post a comment… well I alsmot did but then half way through the tome she’s quoting and buch of patronizing crap from the bible and she lost me there. back button.
Anyway her whole entire argument can be summed up as “girls need to get off their asses and get back to work, not lounge areound drinking wine on the couch all day. Dear girsl: BE AWESOME!! “
Suddenly I don’t regret neglecting to comment. There’s no point in arguing with somebody who is quoting scripture. They’ve already made up their mind so there is no debate.
“Wow be your awesome selves, look what you can do, girls, you can be/do ANYTHING !!!! ”
Give me a break.
Women have been working their asses off for CENTURIES. Are you really this pissed that your daughter might consider taking… a personal day???
After all, she does specify “today,” doesn’t it? Does she say, every day? No. Can’t adult today. didn’t think about that, did ya?
Here’s what I think “Can’t adult Today” really means. Because we’re not in the dark ages any more. We’re just not. And when you lament
“And I hear [I can’t adult today] loudest…
from women.” (direct quote)
maybe there’s a really great reason for that.
Maybe these lazy ass insensible carefree wine-swilling women are telling us “you know what, how about somebody else do this shit. I don’t want to. I’m tired. You know what, I want to sit on the couch. Like my boyfriend, my dad, my brothers, etc. I want to relax and not think about… taking care of everything and everyone. How’s that? Hm. I’m tired of being responsible for all the troubles and cares. I’m tired of doing all this labor. The emotional labor too. What if I don’t want labor running my damn life.
And why should I overachieve endlessly while nobody else complains when some guy, maybe my brother or whoever gets to… I don’t know… maybe play video games, hang out on the computer, smoke and do whatever he wants unchecked? You’re not writing articles about him. Girls are going to college more than ever, earning top grades, etc, and we still rarely get the best jobs. Why don’t you tell HIM what to do and what to be on a public platform, why don’t you tell him what you think he’s doing wrong???? I”m tired.
We’ve had enough of not being good enough for your standards. The whole world is demanding too many things from us, too much too much. What do you want from us now???
Make no mistake. The blog post is something we’re quite familiar with: it’s a good old-fashioned GUILT TRIP. The author says we don’t need to be perfect, but it’s not believable. Cause she somehow misses the point that “I Can’t Adult Today” actually supports the freedom to be imperfect. Instead, she interprets it this way:
“I want to grow up to Not be able to ADULT. or “My Life Goal is to lay around and drink wine all day…Im a HOT MESS.” with a cautionary “The hot mess you claim is the hot mess you become. It’s a fact.” (direct quote)
Right. So basically she just lept straight from taking a personal day to…. a hot mess? life goals over? Yeah ,exactly. This is exactly the stuff that needs to go away. One false move, girls, and suddenly your a fuckin g failure. One flaw. Who knows, maybe one personal day is all it takes! you could be on the couch with wine for the rest of your life !!! one day and you’re out of the game, everybody will forget you, you’ll be left behind, your life will be over, and everyone will blame you for everything.
And you’ll never get a man. And your parents will reject you. And you won’t be … good. You won’t be a good girl. You’ll be a fuckin loser. And you’ll disappoint my expectations.
Right. If you don’t like “I can’t adult today”, well how about this. How about DON’T PUT THAT SHIT ON ME !!!!
Stop telling me to be the best everywhere I turn. I HATE having to be the best at everything !!! I’m not the best and that’s okay!!!
Just because we’ve been screwed over in history or whatever. It’s not my job to make up for that. NOT MY JOB
We were on the couch watching tv, I think it was some kind of entertainment awards show.
I wasn’t paying too much attention, I think I was drawing. Until somebody said something that charged up my attention like a cigarette to the skin.
One of the men, I think it was one of the actors — wealthy, famous, older, with a golden permanent tan, a bit weathered — typical – was asked a question about his life challenges or something. He joked,
“Try keeping a marriage together when 22 is still on the table.”
I looked up and saw his bright white grin flash as the audience laughed. My lover snickered too. It’s so easy to turn a deaf ear to statements like these on the market value of women.
Months later, I’ve forgotten the program and the people on it. But their laughter sticks with me, and my lover’s chuckle, and that man’s totally oblivious, carefree smile.
This morning I went to a get-together where it turned out that the ratio of men to women was about 12:1. Not a big deal normally, except I felt a bit of a bad vibe with this particular group. My creep radar went off. Super casual and I wasn’t anything special in jeans and tee, but some of the men were staring a bit much. I moved away, positioning myself more towards the women.
We’d only just arrived. I was engaged in a conversation with a fairly large group of people I didn’t know. One of the men in the group said he went for a hike with his friend the other day, and that he was experiencing envy.
Because, he said emphatically, “My friend has….
A REALLY YOUNG WIFE.”
Oh great, here it comes, I’m thinking. Same old shit.
He said that his friend was this many years younger than him, and his friend’s wife is THIS many years younger than his friend, and she is THIS!! many years younger than him …
I wasn’t following all of it as I darted through options in my mind about what to do next, but I think the number 10 came up, and definitely the number 20 did. I registered how impressed he was with the age difference in the tone of his voice.
And then, he actually said the following words to all of us,
“…And I was thinking, man, I WISH I could wake up next to someone WHO LOOKS LIKE THAT!”
After a brief pause, an awkward chuckle from the group perforated his next couple of sentences about his struggle to overcome envy. Hm. Surely it must be painful.
And then the loudest sound was me. Swiftly, bruskly scooping up my bags, coffee, and sweater from the floor by my feet as fast as I could and racing the fuck out of there on the spot, right past them all. I didn’t say a word and didn’t need to, as they all stopped to watch me. I could kinda feel some of their mouths half open as if to speak, but I didn’t give it a chance.
Just outside the front door, I was already in the car before anyone could react. Off to do something better with my day, hopefully in more enlightened company.
I burned my mouth off so hard it stings with pain. Incidentally a nice metaphor for what writing feels like when you drop the fear and just speak. I scarfed down a scalding hot udon veg soup so fast because I couldn’t wait to get back here and write. I literally have nothing better to do, as in nothing I’d rather be doing.
It’s a bit of a dramatic shift, from the poetic prose I do elsewhere to right now where it’s all about blurting out whatever I want and removing the filter and I guess being a bit of a punk ass. It was always there, this voice, but I couldn’t reconcile it with the diplomatic, tolerant and gracious person I was proud of at heart. Maybe I was too much of a lady, even as all the alarm bells went off in me constantly at stuff and I knew I just wanted to go off on shit the way I went off on shit in my head. Maybe nice girl was a persona, maybe this is one. I don’t know and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter.
Writing is not always about being gracious. Sometimes, nothing gets done that way. In writing, you have to take a position. That’s what it’s about, that’s the game. Of course there’s millions of other positions. But you just have to take a stand and go for it, otherwise you’ll get too caught up in all the opinions of the world and you’ll go round in circles and never end up saying anything.
Maybe I recoiled in the past because of those I met along the way who tried to shut me up as soon as I got going, and back then it kinda worked. Having nothing to lose in writing since I don’t have anyone to please anymore but myself and anyone who might want or need to read this, I have cordially lost the ability to give a fuck. On so many levels.
So I’m fine with it now. I realize this voice and all the rest of me don’t need to be reconciled. They will just coexist. The only person who has to worry about any of it adding up in any meaningful way is me, if that’s even something interesting to contemplate which it isn’t. Anybody else who’s got a bone to pick, well it’s not my fault if they’ve got their mind on somebody else’s business.