I need to write more, and not the emo crap that I wind up making protected or private. It makes me feel better at the time, and then later when I feel better I’m like “oh no, no, no, no.”
This year will be better. Maybe. Hopefully?! My life is kinda dull. The plot is mundane, but there were times in the last three months I could have wrote a post. Shoot, I could write a post about what I saw at the Dollar Tree, what movies I’ve seen at the theater since I got Movie pass club, or about how I think that Playmate that screwed Trump for 10 months is the epitome of skank (even though we aren’t supposed to slut-shame sluts anymore). Throw in the intricacies of my mental illness and you have the recipe that keeps all two or three of you coming back for another helping.
I have some sad news to report, but maybe I will save it for next time, because I feel some detail is needed to express my sadness and guilt.
Maybe my post after the sad one will be about riding in a cab with a hooker during a snow storm and/or how my last Uber ride was the Spanish Inquisition.
But anyway, yes it’s been 8 years and eternity since I set sail my first rambling post to this blog.
Thanks for being here!