So I break laws (take my mother’s estrogen patches) and defy the universe to even try to fuck with me again on that lame old score (breast cancer).
Cause that bitch done already been paid over and over and over again. In a million different ways. She owes ME at this point. Besides, she wouldn’t recognize me anymore.
Why? Oddly enough and without trying, I think I’ve mastered [and all inaccuracies and ignorances are mine here, especially since I’ve never read it] “the subtle art of not giving a fuck.”
Isn’t it a little presumptuous of anyone to assume ANY of us will be here tonight, tomorrow, or 3 months from now? In fact, I nearly laughed out loud just now making a 3-month follow-up appointment with my migraine doctor.
I don’t know what kind of/if any philosophy my views might reflect. I only know this is how I feel/what I think: who knows, I’m always getting the two confused, anyway.
At least this is what I feel-think today. That could change tomorrow. I can’t commit to much of anything at this point, you see. So I’m sorry/not sorry. You’ll just have to deal with it.
What does this look like, practically speaking? I can (of course) only speak for myself. But…
I do stupid things like: I go off and leave personal belongings at the doctor’s office, then have to drive THE WHOLE WAY BACK to retrieve them. Yeah…why weren’t they the kind of personal belongings I wouldn’t have been allowed to exit the building without? If I’d left my mask, I know I wouldn’t have gotten far.
I’ve also become a terrible judge of character, turning Ignorant Assholes into Prince Charmings with NO DATA WHATSOEVER TO SUPPORT THESE CONCLUSIONS!!
Thank goodness I seem capable from learning from my mistakes in that department. This week at least.
I sing karaoke too much, smoke weed too much, forget to feed myself, refuse to clean my room, and spend far too much of my discretionary income on my hair [because I intend to look good for the duration].
Maybe I’m a little fixated on my hair because I’m so glad it grew back? I don’t know if this theory holds water because I also spend money on my sexy fake fingernails.
So… no news to you, my friends, but I’m not being particularly responsible these days. [Visitors: don’t get excited thinking you’re going to scam me; I’m not a sucker anymore, sucker – and even when I was, you couldn’t squeeze me.]
For my subscribers, who have suffered through at least one of my posts, we need to collectively face reality: I suck at karaoke. Yes, it’s true and I know it’s true. Y’all are just being sweet, but I know I suck.
Yet… I still don’t care!! Maybe because there’s no one left to embarrass but my mom, and no one would dare inform her of her adult daughter’s colossal lapses in judgment (out of respect for my mom).
I don’t know if it’s the weed or an existential crisis or even a POST-existential crisis. I only know I’m both a Total Flake and an Utter Mess.
At least that’s the look I’m shooting for.
How am I doing?