In a perfect world, this first post would be perfection in black and white. A funny, yet tasteful joke here, a classy play on words there, some soul deep wisdom sprinkled about as needed. Bake at 350 for twenty minutes and behold the greatest first blog post to ever grace the eternal halls of internet fame.
In reality, it’s 7 in the morning and I’ve been up all night, alternating between playing video games and losing horribly, repeatedly waking one of the cats up because she just hates it when I do that, and wondering what in the hell I’m doing with my life. It was at about 5 in the morning that the incessant demand that I just fucking write that has come from so many different people finally broke through the tired, irritable haze of my brain. Suddenly, before even the sun was ready to be up and at it, I was feeling motivated. Which is, frankly, annoying as all hell. It’s 7am. I don’t have anywhere to be, anything to do, until 10am and all that involves is what is likely to be a very frustrating live chat with someone a state away from me about why things aren’t going the way I want them to when it comes to sensitive medical information being sent to the right places.
The text I sent my mother at 5:22am, just before beginning this adventure, read “Awake. Intensely frustrated. I’m really hitting a point where I don’t want to keep living like this.” She’s frightfully used to these sorts of texts from me and responded a bit later in her calm, professionally trained counselor way. “I understand…use the time to relax and meditate. See if it helps.”
I shoot back “Nope. Writing won. Congratulations, you finally get your fucking blog.”
I can feel her smug victory over the phone and I really want to be mad at her. Somehow, I can’t stop smiling long enough to be mad at all.