Skip navigation

Let me clarify something in wake of my very sensible and scholarly post title. I really, and I mean reeeeally, hate being responsible. This post will not be responsibly written. I don’t responsibly write anything, in fact, I didn’t bother to grammer or spell check my face book status this morning and publicly blamed the ensuing mess on ghosts.

                                                           That’s, that’s a ghost thing right? 

 I’m not stuctured, my daily routine reads something akin to, to…I don’t know, I’ve never written down my morning schedule; that would be a lot of work and self reflective, which are attributes of responsible people who enjoy aggressive self discovery in the pursuit of perfection. I’m more of a knee jerk sort of a task completer: The kid is hungry thus I feed him; my husband has no clean clothes so I wash laundry…You get the idea, right? If my life style were really up to me, and I was the only person I had to worry about, I would most likely be living in a yurt in Northern Minnesota participating in writers guild readings at coffee shops and running a farmers market stall that sells home grown, organic jelly and hot sauce on one side and art work on the other to fund my organic(ish), yurt-y, argyle wearing (I would wear so much argyle) lifestyle.

 

                                             These socks just scream, uhm, “I’m yarn” probably, I guess…

 That isn’t a joke. Throw in some unicorns and a puppy and I’m so there. Unfortunately I’m married and have a kid. (Don’t take that the wrong way hunny, just, sometimes, when I fall asleep at night, I wish you were a yurt kind of guy.)

                          He likes yurts, and he’s got puppies. 100 million dollars says a unicorn took this picture.

I’m trying really hard now to remember what my point was.

Oh right, responsible writing. Sometimes I feel the need to post about my emotional state, you know, vent in an angry, feminine manner suiting a middle schooler who just learned that totally hot guy she likes and never talks to, but who totally looked right at her during lunch, just helped the popular girl carry her books to science class. That two timing jerk.

                                                        Pictured, the cause of modern feminism.

After going through the trouble of turning my computer on and signing in to blogger I’ve cooled down a bit and I realize two things.
1) I am not 13 years old.
2) My blog is not Myspace.
Accepting these as fact make me a better person. It also means that I have to find a new subject to blog about that makes me sound like a grown up which I just really don’t care to be most of the time. You see the cycle here, right?

Advertisements

2 Comments

  1. Three letter: LOL. You had me rolling! I love the yurt guy with the puppies. TOO funny!

  2. can so relate to this rambling!! Oh my, maybe I passed along something when I raised you 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: