Half assed start

Jesus... what pressure.

Get ready for some pretty terrible writing y'all. Cause I offer no goddamn promises that any of this will make a lick of sense, or that there will be any consistent writing at all. Let's face it- I'm a terrific starter. All enthusiasm and promises and "wont this be AMAZING?!" running from every orifice... But I'm a quitter. Typically. With projects I mean. Or maybe more specifically- with anything that's just meeee. If it matters to someone else- has to do with my job or means the difference of money or not in my pocket- then it will get done. But the rest? Meh...

So- we'll see. I want to write because I used to do it. A lot. And it meant something to me. it was my release and I felt centered when I did it regularly. Years ago I would actually leave a party, or a gathering of friends where there was beer and wine and food and laughs just to get back to my shitty roach infested apartment just to WRITE! I would sit on my deck- drinking and smoking and write the shit out of whatever I needed to say. I'm sure it was all terrible self indulgent drivel about a boy or a man and my place in the world- but damn, I did it. And I could have cared less about how it sounded.

And good lord y'all. Here's my problem. I am now forty-fucking-one years old and a terrible mess. Just a wreck. And I have got to find my way out of it.

So before we go any further- let me make this clear. If by some miracle I actually WRITE in this blog on any kind of a regular basis- it's gonna be some terrible self indulgent drivel. You down? No? Cool. Carry on man.

If you're still here.... well... sweet. Good luck to you. And while we're at it, me too.

Contents to surely come (well wasn't that optimistic of me?)... My work and my ineptitude at such things, my childless existence (I'll just throw it out there that I have had 4 miscarriages so that's gonna be some fun reading), my lack of any direction for the future, probably a bit about exercise and the love hate battle raging within, and hopefully some full fledged snark about The Real Housewives (any of them, I'm a whore for the whole thing) and various other pop culture topics that get me feeling all superior and shit.

Oh- and my hubs. Cause I love that guy. He's just as messed up as I am.

See ya.