So I hit upon a blog one day.
So I hit upon a blog one day. Didn't understand what the point was before that, thought that the idea of an 'online diary' was somewhat hypocritical. Isn't a diary supposed to be personal, and unknown to others?
Anyway, through sheer boredom, web cruising, and all that shit that'll get you into to much trouble (or not enough, as my case may be), I happened across a blog page that facinated me. The woman posting (whom I shall not link you to, on the grounds that I don't know her, and she doesn't know me, hence has not given permission) is identical in personality to one of my closest friends. Reading her blog is similar to reading the thoughts of my rather reticient friend, E.
Basically what I'm getting at here is that I ended up replying to one of her posts, hence creating a profile, therefor creating a blogspot of my very own.
I think what it comes down to is that I care to much about what other people think about me, despite the need to comment on their lives. If I could just leave good enough alone, I'd be stylin', but I just can't do that. Instead, I feel the need to tell every random person my opinion, and a grand Fuck You to concequences.
But no, I've got one of those idiocycratic natures, where I voice my opinion whether you want it or not, yet care what you think of me. Not a good combination.
So what I'm left with is a need to explain myself to anyone who I might happen to post a comment on the blog of, who may then check my blog to find out who I am that I feel the right to comment on their blog. So here it goes:
I'm twenty seven. That's what the blog has told me, based on my date of birth. I haven't been able to remember my age since I was twenty two. Don't know why, it just happened.
I'm a mom. I hate kids, only like them on a one-on-one basis, never gushed over a newborn, yet here I am, with a soon to be four year old the center of my universe. (And I haven't met a kid I disliked, except maybe that Connor, if he bites my daughter one more time, I'm gonna kick that little shit's ass).
I'm in school. That says so much, yet so little. I'm a student, was getting my BA, up until yesterday, when I realized that feeding my child was more important to me than credentials.
So now I'm at a cross-roads. I've decided to take the scholastic path that pretty much guarantees me employment, leaving me with the means to pay off student loans, pay rent, and possibly find the time to get laid in the process. Drop the BA, have a life for myself and my daughter.
Drop the BA, prove that single mothers are to fucking stupid to get a degree. (Because functioning ovaries are corrolated with mental ability).
So the end all and be all of my post is that I am impulsive, I drink too much coffee, I smoke too much, and I dropped out of university to get a trade-school-level-diploma-in-banker's-shit. And you know what? I feel good. I can raise my daughter. I can do her good. Fuck those who feel I should 'Prove a point, get the BA, show that single mom's can do it.'
Why? Because I am smart. I can do it. And I will raise my daughter well. I don't need a BA to prove that.
I will get a BA. And it will be on my own terms, paid for with my own money, because I want too. If I wait until my daughter graduates, well then I'll be fourty. In my books, that's the perfect age to choose a new career and get re-educated. So a big fat fuck you to anyone who I am dissapointing, and a big fat fuck you to anyone who thinks I should be their mascott, as the perfect single mother. I am who I am and I will do what I will do. My daughter comes first in my world, I come second, and the rest of you fall a distant third.
It's amazing how much the anonymity of a computer will pull out of you. This is so cathartic, I may take this up as a pass time, despite the fact that the whole purpose of this page was to convince curious bloggers that the comments I post come from someone innocuous enough.
So that's my current life story. I know that no one's listening, but if I should be unable to resist the urge to post on your blog, at least you now know where I come from.
Anyway, through sheer boredom, web cruising, and all that shit that'll get you into to much trouble (or not enough, as my case may be), I happened across a blog page that facinated me. The woman posting (whom I shall not link you to, on the grounds that I don't know her, and she doesn't know me, hence has not given permission) is identical in personality to one of my closest friends. Reading her blog is similar to reading the thoughts of my rather reticient friend, E.
Basically what I'm getting at here is that I ended up replying to one of her posts, hence creating a profile, therefor creating a blogspot of my very own.
I think what it comes down to is that I care to much about what other people think about me, despite the need to comment on their lives. If I could just leave good enough alone, I'd be stylin', but I just can't do that. Instead, I feel the need to tell every random person my opinion, and a grand Fuck You to concequences.
But no, I've got one of those idiocycratic natures, where I voice my opinion whether you want it or not, yet care what you think of me. Not a good combination.
So what I'm left with is a need to explain myself to anyone who I might happen to post a comment on the blog of, who may then check my blog to find out who I am that I feel the right to comment on their blog. So here it goes:
I'm twenty seven. That's what the blog has told me, based on my date of birth. I haven't been able to remember my age since I was twenty two. Don't know why, it just happened.
I'm a mom. I hate kids, only like them on a one-on-one basis, never gushed over a newborn, yet here I am, with a soon to be four year old the center of my universe. (And I haven't met a kid I disliked, except maybe that Connor, if he bites my daughter one more time, I'm gonna kick that little shit's ass).
I'm in school. That says so much, yet so little. I'm a student, was getting my BA, up until yesterday, when I realized that feeding my child was more important to me than credentials.
So now I'm at a cross-roads. I've decided to take the scholastic path that pretty much guarantees me employment, leaving me with the means to pay off student loans, pay rent, and possibly find the time to get laid in the process. Drop the BA, have a life for myself and my daughter.
Drop the BA, prove that single mothers are to fucking stupid to get a degree. (Because functioning ovaries are corrolated with mental ability).
So the end all and be all of my post is that I am impulsive, I drink too much coffee, I smoke too much, and I dropped out of university to get a trade-school-level-diploma-in-banker's-shit. And you know what? I feel good. I can raise my daughter. I can do her good. Fuck those who feel I should 'Prove a point, get the BA, show that single mom's can do it.'
Why? Because I am smart. I can do it. And I will raise my daughter well. I don't need a BA to prove that.
I will get a BA. And it will be on my own terms, paid for with my own money, because I want too. If I wait until my daughter graduates, well then I'll be fourty. In my books, that's the perfect age to choose a new career and get re-educated. So a big fat fuck you to anyone who I am dissapointing, and a big fat fuck you to anyone who thinks I should be their mascott, as the perfect single mother. I am who I am and I will do what I will do. My daughter comes first in my world, I come second, and the rest of you fall a distant third.
It's amazing how much the anonymity of a computer will pull out of you. This is so cathartic, I may take this up as a pass time, despite the fact that the whole purpose of this page was to convince curious bloggers that the comments I post come from someone innocuous enough.
So that's my current life story. I know that no one's listening, but if I should be unable to resist the urge to post on your blog, at least you now know where I come from.
posted by Impulsivecompulsive | 11:53 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks Sara. I tend to forget that us mothers are actually doing double the work load (if not more).
And yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself that I have (so far) managed not to maim and torture those whiney minimal child support paying types. Fortunatly, I don't personally have one of those around. For me, it's not even worth the money to have to deal with that shit.
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