Getting My Tubes Tied

Overheard at the bus stop a few weeks ago:

Little Boy: "Mom, can we play like I'm in juvie?"
Mom: "No, that's not funny, and if you keep going, that's where you will end up."


Reason # 502 that I am thinking of getting my tubes tied.

Don't get me wrong. I love kids. I work in daycare, it's a job requirement, but looking at the tired, frustrated face of that mother at the bus stop, and the millions just like her I see everyday, is all the incentive I need to not reproduce. It almost makes abstinece look like a good idea.

I would like to think that all my years working in childcare would equip me with superstar parenting skills, but I know myself and my gene pool all too well. I would have to work four jobs to pay for all the therapy my children would need.

I Hope This is Just PMS

It's been one of those days for the last thirty three years. I am a lifetime of unrealized potential and unfulfilled prophecies. The things that float around in my head are so amazing, but making them a reality seems next to impossible. I find myself being bitter and jealous as I watch those who have no real talent succeed and live the life I can only grasp hold of in my daydreams. Trust fund babies who suck the right dicks, ass kissers with their Minnesota nice cliches' making the connections I fail at because the simplest things are a struggle. I know I am good, damn goood, but I am also brutally honest and piss off the wrong people. It's not that I burn bridges, I just don't build them. Things that for most come so easily are such a struggle for me. Things like getting out of bed. I spend my day changing diapers and cleaning up after babies while pretentious film school dropouts are flying all over the country shooting films with thier parents' money. I come home so exhuasted that figuring out what to eat for dinner drains all of my creative juices. I see people producing such shit, and I know I could do better, but I don't even attempt. Maybe this is me just feeling sorry for myself again or maybe I am just being brutally honest.

A Journal Entry from March 16, 2009

There was a drunk, fat , naked guy in my house, and now I talk to my good friends at the Minneapolis police department on a daily basis. My roommate is out of her mind on substances, but she is also a scared, lost , little girl I want to help.
I remember being lost. I never got into the whole drug scene, but I have developed enough other addictions to fill the void within myself. I see her and see myself, who I was, who I could be at any moment if I don't heed warning signs.
How do you help someone without enabling them? Without sending yourself to the dark places to try and find them. So often while we are searching in the darkness in the hopes of helping others, we lose ourselves.
I'm too tired to process this right now. The police will be here early in the morning. Thankfully, the large naked man is gone.

Be Gentle , It's My First Time

A friend of mine suggested that I blog for money. Well, considering the other things I have done and touched for money this can't be much worse. Before I try to seek my fortune admist the world of professional bloggers, I thought I would start here. Be gentle with me, it's my first time blogging, unless you count Xanga.