Thoughts on life.
It’s been a while, I know. Remember how I set that goal to blog every day this year? What the fuck was I thinking? That was never going to happen, and I think we all knew it. I always start out with the best of intentions and somehow fuck shit up along the way. I started a 52 weeks photo project too. And then gave it up a few weeks in. I don’t know if I’d consider this just a quitters mentality or maybe I’m setting myself up to fail. Either way, both goals have been shot, gutted, and served up on a platter. Too graphic?
See, my whole life is like this. I have the greatest goals and never seem to follow through with any of them. I’ll say to myself, “This is the year that I finally keep the house tidy.” It’s almost May and I haven’t folded laundry once all year. It sits in baskets in the laundry room or on our bedroom floor and we just pull from them. Our dressers are empty. We live like traveling salesmen, only we stay in the same place and our suitcases are replaced with 99 cent baskets from a big box store.
I’ve made cleaning schedule after cleaning schedule. I stick to them for about a week and then something in my brain says, “Well, you’ve given it a go…” and I start slacking off again. My house isn’t dirty by any means. But it’s not company ready at the drop of a hat. And I guess that’s ok, but growing up in a family of anal retentive clean machines has always led me to believe that your house must be spotless to be worth a damn. I am missing this gene. Too much like my dad I suppose.
It’s almost like my entire life is made up of failed New Year’s resolutions. But the year changes monthly and I never end up doing much of anything.
I want to be a mom. Of course, it’s the one thing that has always made sense to me. Kids. I get kids. I’m great with kids, especially babies. I’ve done the research and made plans and worked really fucking hard, thank you very much. At least the roadblocks with this one aren’t entirely because of my failure to complete projects. At least I can blame part of this on something other than myself.
But then there’s also the part of me that could do something about this. I could help fix it and I know how and I have the tools to do it… but I don’t. Change is the hardest thing to do as a human and I guess I’m just acting my species.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this. Add one more thing to the pile of unfinished business I’ve amassed.



















