Portrait of the Artist as a
Young Girl Woman – Age 35
If you’ve ever checked out my Monthly Meter on here, you will see my stops and starts–lurching then full speed to a putt-putt and altogether stop. 35 was one of those times. I point you to a post I wrote almost exactly a year to the day ago:
(It’s probably best that I shut up more than I spoke up then).
10 May 2010
I found an old disk today–from, like, 2002 to 2005. Apparently, this was my modus operandi at the time which would explain some of the other treats I found on the disk. Maybe I’ll write an updated version. (But today won’t be that day because I’m all kinds of pissed, frustrated, fugged up, and downright negative. Something I did in a former life has caught up with me and if you thought payback was a bitch, guess what, I’m hear to tell you it is not. I wish it were so kind).
So anyway, here are, as the file was titled, “Some Rules:”
Be good. Or be good at it. Work hard. Play harder. Feel your way. And if it’s sticky or gritty, head to the nearest sink and scrub up to your elbows. Know when to play dumb. And if he can’t tell that you’re playing dumb, back away slowly. Brush your teeth after kissing frogs. If you kiss enough frogs, Prince Charming will appear. Be beautiful. Because you said so. Never let them see you sweat. Never let them smell you sweat. Boys will be boys. At least until they’re 50. Girls gossip. Women have discussions. Insanity is what everybody does when no one is watching. Sanity is a word boring people made up to feel better about being boring. Living fully means you have something to blush about. Living dangerously means you’re not afraid to die. Always boil the seasonings before you add the beans. Balance. If it fits you must buy it. If he hollers let him go.