the time that I watched 20 episodes of Girls back to back and questioned my entire life


At the intersection of newly acquired streaming HBO and a plague that has fallen over my house I have watched three seasons of Girls back to back. Now, I’m going to be honest the kind of emotional life breakdown that I’m having right meow isn’t nearly as bad the two back to back seasons of OITNB that twisted my reality to the point that I needed to be a lesbian and seriously reevaluated my life on the outside. I mean minimum security prison is really mostly like a big sleepover with fewer bags of cool ranch doritos. But, it is still one.

I’m stuck. Maybe we’re all stuck. Stuck between wishing to fulfill the dream that has resided in my heart of hearts for all of my conscious existence and fulfilling my dream to put dinner on the table, raise my daughter in a respectable way and be in a supported relationship.

I don’t even know if I can put my finger on exactly what I want (ed) to be. I wanted to be the president of the United States, an astronaut, a supreme court justice, the edgy female version of Ken Burns, a writer, an artist, a Smithsonian curator, a surgeon, a public health advocate, an Art History professor at a community college and the owner of a really bohemian tea shop next to some water somewhere that smells really nice oh and I really want to wear pretty dresses every day and I want to go to the opera in a fancy fucking dress at least once, oh and I don’t want to wear a bra hardly ever.

Yup that’s what I want to be. Maybe specificity is my issue.  No where on that list is an occupational therapist, an medical office administrator, a frazzled mother, an OCD house cleaner, dog wrangler, an amateur blogger and political commentator to an audience of 2 (my boyfriend and my daughter……. mommmy what does the electoral college mean? Okay, but I’ll take listeners where I can get them).

But here I am. The rock is my obligations on this earth as the creator of another human being that needs nothing more than to have someone with their shit together navigating her ship of life for the next twelve years. The hard place is that I could literally throw a dart at that laundry list of things that I would actually like to be pursuing but am not and be significantly more fulfilled than I am currently.

I don’t know if you understand the kind of misery that I live. 8 to 6:30 Monday though Friday I put on business casual, leave the house and shape shift into a professional woman who is inquisitive, compassionate, easy to get along with, outgoing yet refined, polite, well mannered. I don’t cuss. I don’t tell people to take a flying leap. I don’t correct people when the make absolutely ludicrous declarations about politics, science or morality. I smile and nod. I fucking smile and nod and give half hearted fake chuckles and tragically unfunny things.
I also tell none of them about this blog, because that would be outing myself.

Here it is. Very few people in the ‘real world’ are actually intellectually stimulating, progressive or remotely interesting. And I really don’t like them.

Maybe the issue is that I’ve done nothing but make soup, do dishes, cuddle my baby and clean up a thousand piles of barf and shit in past 72 hours. So, yeah, life can’t  really go anywhere but up.


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