It has been such a day that when I got home I got high, showered, flipped on the tube to see this and it got my high ass all stoopid and I barely restrained myself from posting this
💣💥💦💨
journal
I Chose This
I don’t want to be forty four, I don’t want to be a hundred and sixty five pounds, I don’t want to work fifty hours a week just to barely make ends meet and I don’t want to have a very fucked up spine. I don’t want to. If I had a time machine I could go back and make different decisions that would not result in my current situation. I COULD make different decisions but you know what? I probably wouldn’t. I could have easily avoided becoming forty four, or becoming one hundred and sixty five pounds, I could have avoided every situation that led up to me just getting back into the workforce after 15 years. I could’ve chosen to sit on the sidelines in sports and life therefore not destroying my spine. I could have punked out. I made decisions every day that cultivated this. I tended the garden that produced this. I own this. I have lived every single one of my 16,252 days. I chose this.
Survival InstinctÂ
I think that deep down we all know that the end is THE END. That we all return to the void that we were before we were conceived. We don’t experience the void because we are not conscious. We don’t exist before conception and we won’t exist again. Otherwise why would there be the survival instinct? We can all TRY to fool ourselves into believing that we believe in an afterlife but if we do then why do we fight to stay in this life or dread death? The pain and scariness of the actual act of DYING is understandable but the terror of being dead forever is ridiculous. We weren’t ALIVE for most of time and even the oldest person’s life is short compared to the the time that they are not alive. Deep down there is a certainty that we will soon be nonexistent again. Nonexistence is the easy part but it is not enjoyable. Even pain and uncertainty are an experience. Nonexistence is the absence of experience and I can see how that can be attractive to people struggling in this life but the beauty is in the struggle. The void may seem beautiful from this side and the thought of never ever struggling again is certainly attractive but the knowledge that it is not only unavoidable but also permanent is reason enough to put it off for as long as possible. If we TRULY believed there was a future to experience after death we would not have a survival instinct that kicks in when our consciousness is threatened. We would not gasp for breath or claw our way to the surface. We would simply relax into our exit or be excited for the adventure of the next phase of existence. We wouldn’t come up with elaborate bed time stories of paradise to comfort us about death. Enjoy life because just like anyone that has ever lived or will live it’s the only one you get. This life is precious and beautiful for no other reason than that it is PRECIOUS and BEAUTIFUL and it doesn’t have to mean a thing.
Drunken Overshare
If I honestly believed that one day I would meet someone that I could honestly believe in then I would save myself. I wouldn’t be buzzing around like the only bee around to fertilize the entire field of wild flowers. I would let the wind pollinate the field so that when I finally met the flower that accepted me the way that I accept all of the plants in the meadow it would be more amazing than anything has ever been. I would spend this time preserving myself for the future that I had faith in.
If I thought it was possible to somehow interact from the very 1st meeting without any of my defense mechanisms automatically popping up it might make it easier to accept that I could be known and believed in and accepted forever. But I would have to be asleep or in a coma and I couldn’t even introduce myself.
Since I don’t believe that there is anyone out there that would cherish the comatose me I will continue to connect in the only way that I’m not concerned about rejection. Even if it doesn’t fill me with joy it distracts me from my loss of faith for a fairy tale happy ending.
I’ll just have to live with physical “happy endings” and hope that I don’t meet that unimaginably amazing person after I’m all used up and have a busted ass liver. The person that is too good to be true would love me anyway, no matter what and then I would feel just awful for ruining myself before they could know me. Welcome to Conundrum City. ~ Kiddo 9-15-2013
Tide Pool
Let’s lay in a tide pool you and I, with the sun all day on our backs. To feel the surge wash the shells up and then drag them beneath us will be like hundreds of tiny fingers massaging away our worries and putting them out to sea.
Let not even words come between us to interrupt our conversation. Like ‘Strangers in a Strange Land’ this water ceremony will allow us to grok one another in perfect fullness. Become my water brother on the shore at rest between the extremes of crashing surf and barren sand.
We’ll watch the sun as it westers and extinguishes itself in the gulf. You’ll not have to ask for me to rub ointment on your too warm skin,I’ll cherish the act as this growing closer continues through the night.
In the morning there’ll be a new pool to soothe your tender back.So then let’s lay in a tide pool you and I, with the sun all day on our face ~ Kiddo
Illegitimi non carborundum
Someone asked me at work last night or the night before if I ever get tired….and I answered   “I’m tired nearly every single day and I’m frequently on the edge of exhauation. I work 9 to 11 hour days and drive an hour to work and an hour back if traffic doesn’t stop on the interstate.. MOST of the time you see me I’m tirrrrred….now ask me how often I quit…I don’t. I get shit done.”  Illegitimi non carborundum
Neither here nor there
I’ve lost every passion I’ve ever had and I’d still fuck you better than fate.
Thankful anyway
​I’m like an actor on a cheap home shopping channel airing at 1am….you can tell the smile is forced and that I don’t fully believe in what I’m selling…and that I’m exhausted from trying to believe that this is temporary: I’m living someone else’s shitty life.
Frustrated
Sometimes trying is more depressing than giving up.
Fictional but realistic
In this novel I’ve been reading the main character is bipolar but apparently a long cycle manic depressive because she doesn’t have real episodes for years and usually triggered by something specifically but builds…Anyway it is interesting to read the description of the gradual increase in energy and thought clarity and how reality starts to seem so surreal with colors bright, sounds defined and how she uses her peak time when she feels like her true self for clarity because she knows it’s definitely going to change into a muddled mess and eventually some wild fiction. The wild fiction that seems more real than reality and how she just can’t tell the difference at times and she knows that she’ll inevitably break and then have to hopefully recover. Once she knows how the progression works she can learn how to sort of slow the progression and eventual break. She even describes how it is after recovering to become quiet and more solitary and behind the scenes so that she can just stay stable. Rocking the boat at all when one is newly recovered could begin a quick spiral out of control.
During the rest phase bipolar people know that the funny, life of the party, take life by the balls version of themselves is alone in a room somewhere inside of them just waiting for stage directions so that they can take the stage and make life energetic and interesting again.
I think either the author of this book is manic/depressive or someone very close to them is.
Kiddo Krazy
Krazy Konversations with Kiddo: Last night someone asked me if I thought that people thought that I was crazy.
I clarified “Do I think that people think that I’M crazy?”
*Nod*
“Well if they don’t then they haven’t been paying attention.” I chuckled then continued “I’m good crazy though. Like fun and whacky and just love the beauty of the world around me so much that it makes me NUTS…but in a good way. I also may be considered crazy in other ways but I’m not bad crazy like Charles Manson or The Zodiac Killer. I’m passionate”
“It’s true you’re crazy in those ways but you’re just keeping the bad crazy under control. You’re good at everything you do and you definitely have the potential to be the baddest of the bad crazies ever. Passionate is a good word to describe you and it’s possible to be passionate in bad behaviour too. You’re the craziest person I know and I would not want to be on your bad side”
“Errr, thanks…I think. So I guess it’s a good thing that I choose not to let people get on my bad side. I know better than to let the “bad crazy” out to play.
“You have the most creative dark conversations though. You’re definitely a psychpath. You should write a book with a crazy antagonist and a crazy protagonist because you see things from both points of view. I would love to read it”
“Okay that’s another book to put on my list of books I should write. This one will be called Kiddo Krazy and it will be dedicated to you.”
“Okay our time is up. You’ll be taken back to the rec room now”
“Ha ha…you better watch it or that book might become nonfiction”
Reflections with Kiddo
#kiddokrazy #nofilter #bathroomfaucet #dontneedanappforthat
The beginning of the end
Since I was 14yrs old I’ve shaved my legs in the shower by putting my foot chest high on the tile wall. The past few years when I shave my legs while standing in the shower I’ve started to think that one day I won’t be able to do this anymore. To me that is the beginning of the end. Eventually I will only be able to shave my legs while sitting in a bubble bath. Damn good thing I love bubble baths.
#1stworldprobs
Drinking cheap, HARSH vodka (straight) because rent was due and I’m the head of a single income household. $1,000 doesn’t grow on trees.
Ironically Cliche should be a style
In a perfect world: Alternate Saturday’s would include getting stoned while listening to Fade Into You ~ Mazzy Star as many times as it took and then making love while listening to Wild Horses ~ The Sundays as many times as it took ~ Kiddo’s Perfect World
I’m okay, you’re okay
Sometimes we just need to allow ourselves the luxury of staying in bed at home all weekend. Sometimes I get stuck in the cycle of accepting people’s invitations just to prove to them and to myself that I’m okay. I don’t like pretending but usually the “fake it until you make it” approach actually works. I also have a sneaking suspicion that if I bench myself that Unis will see no reason to keep me in the game. I don’t want to stop getting invitations to dinners, game nights or drinks on the patio but I also want to stay home for one three day weekend without it being a game changer. Why can’t I do laundry, clean house, get caught up on Ellen and have deep conversations with my teens while not being entirely sober for a few days without feeling like I’m obligated to prove to Unis that I’m still worthy to recieve invitations for late night drinks or afternoon matinees. I don’t really desire to hang out with anyone this weekend but don’t want to risk being benched indefinitely. It could so easily get to the point of no return. I want to keep my options open. If I were in a long term relationship it would be different…at least then I would have someone to stay home with without being benched. Why should I have to show Unis that I truly appreciate each invite by accepting it…..I DO appreciate the invitations but just don’t feel like putting on my public happy face. I’m happy right now just being home with my boys and trying to get caught up on lesson plans and laundry while wearing any face I want. Mostly, I just want to slow down time to make this three day weekend stretch indefinitely 🙂
I miss making love
One of the biggest things I miss about being in a relationship is making love. I still get to have as much sex as the average Jo but it lacks the connection one gets with someone they’re in a relationship with. The sex is great and I wouldn’t want to live without it but it’s definitely lacking some intimacy. I also miss giving and receiving massages and making a special dinner for a special someone. BUT today I put fresh linens on my king size bed (is it king sized or king size? Does it matter? Is it meant to be hyphenated?) and now I am soaking in a hot bath and using Nivea’s in shower lotion to shave and moisturize. Sliding between clean sheets with ultra smooth skin tonight will be DELICIOUS! Not as delicious as making love and not quite as nice as really good sex but definitely a close third. Tonight it’s all I’ve got so I’m going to make the most of it.
Your baloney has a 1st name it’s P-H-O-N-E-Y
Sometimes I mistakenly think something is “real” because I’m always real on my end. I don’t know how or why to be any other way. Turns out no matter how real I am if the other person is less than real then nothing about us is really real. Phoney baloney isn’t bolgna. Both are gross. Reality is gross. Oh well, I guess that means that I’m gross but that doesn’t change the fact that life is beautiful or that Unis can kiss my aged ass.
Insane chances
There’ve been exactly two people in my entire life to make me crazy. Chances of that actually happening even once are insane. I’m currently more sane than I’ve ever really been. Totally comfortable and relaxed with no anticipation frothing beneath my calm surface. There is a method to my madness like when people work out so that they can enjoy food.
My season of poor choices
Yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of my divorce. Such a nice Thanksgiving family memory. Today, Black Friday, is the anniversary of me first hooking up with my ex-girlfriend. It’s the season of my poor choices. What a great reminder to make better decisions or just skip the relationships all together for awhile and enjoy being alone for the holidays. Life may be more lonely alone but the logistics are certainly less complicated.
Still, I’ve gotta squeeze in more cardio because my goal for 2016 is to find an amazing girlfriend with perfect tits and the libido of a 35 to 42 yr old woman. I’m gonna need to shed fifteen pounds to attract anyone at all and I must keep my endurance up so that I can keep her satisfied once I’ve found her.
Another option which allows me to thoroughly enjoy one of my other appetites is to just say forget the human relationships and really commit to my food fetish. It’s definitely the season to indulge in delicious food and drink but ARRRGH I’m trying to work on making better choices! If only I could see the future and know which decision would be the most fulfilling. With that I’m going for my run while I mull it over. Maybe Unis will send me a sign….or a hottie.
Discarded or free to be?
My initial thought when I saw this doughnut discarded in the bushes was that it was sad and lonely. It had done it’s best to be appealing all decked out with chocolate and sprinkles and was yet rejected. Someone had tried it and tossed it away. Then I realized that Kiddo was projecting. Sure this doughnut was not living the purpose for which it was originally intended but it was living a life that most of it’s kind would never get to experience. It had been scarred but now had the opportunity to bask in the sunlight amongst the bushes rather than be immediately consumed. Sprinkles had been given the chance to remain as the sun went down and there’s really no telling what would become of it now. Maybe a raccoon would make a tastey meal of it or perhaps a colony of ants would carry it away one crumb at a time. Either way it had been kissed by the elements and nothing could ever take that away. The fate of Sprinkles was in the hands of Unis now.
Not That Anyone Asked Me... 