I know I seem like all sweetness and light and fairy ponies and purple sunshine and all that crap most of the time.
But sometimes I feel – less than that. Sometimes I feel sad. Other times I feel ANGRY. Murderous even. I’ve been known to throw steel toed boots. Yeah, I know, hard core there. I’m just tired, and tired of being tired, and tired of being mixed up, and tired of people not really listening to me, or listening but not really. Like what do I have to do to get people to take notice?
Like, seriously, this whole adulthood thing? It sucks. No one tells you that as a kid. But it does. I mean, sure, there are some fun things like not going to public school anymore and how you can NOT do the laundry if you don’t feel like it but then you have no clothes, so there are all these consequences and they SUCK. And while there’s no school, you still have to go to a job or something stupid like that, and chances are, your job SUCKS too if only cause they make you do work and you feel like your soul just got sucked out through a silly straw. You no longer care about changing the world or advancing you just want to get paid and have people LEAVE YOU THE FUCK ALONE.
But do they? No. They keep on existing and stuff, and it’s irritating. And it’s long. Eight hours of your day. Day after day after month after year after the REST OF YOUR LIFE until you retire but wait you can’t no you will die at your desk bwahahahahaha.
But it’s not that bad. I mean, you aren’t in Africa where there’s no food. You have lots of food – that you can eat and eat and eat until you weigh 600 pounds which they say is bad for you, but hey, you can weigh almost nothing and on that BMI chart (Bullshit Measurement by Idiots) still be overweight. Not sure what that means for the ones who really are 600 pounds. Maybe they just spontaneously combust.
And you talk to peeps and they are all “Well don’t change anything” or “You aren’t supposed to be happy” or “kids in Africa have no Happy Meals” or “What about my wart, huh?” or “I’m watching the 10th spin off of Dudes with Cars”. And then you wonder – is this as good as it gets? And you feel sad. But really it’s not sad. It’s anger, bottled up, at all those people who don’t listen, and tell you to go back to your box. And it looks something like this.
I call him the Angryface Monster, and he is my little friend. He kills for me in my daydreams and I love him forever and ever AMEN. Do you guys have an Angryface Monster? Do you ever let it out? Was it violent? Did you get even with the friend, spouse, boss, garbage can, whatever? Let me know in the comments below. Mr. Angryface Monster and I will wait. In the shadows. Right behind you.
Unless I let out the monster and then I go to jail and stuff. Then I’ll be there. You can be my one phone call!
Love and kisses,
P.S. I have considered possibly trying to move from full time at an academic library to part time back at the public library (my evil former boss retired – DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD) but it is much less money and back on crappy insurance but there is more time and maybe a little more purpose but you have to suck it up and work for minimum with teens and not sure I want to do that or not. Any of you faced a choice like this?