Fuck-ups and Fuck-yous


Its been a year and a half of fuck-ups and fuck-yous, and I’m not sure yet if I’m ready to appreciate everything, or if I’m still bitter or not done enough. I guess only time and perspective will tell.  I haven’t been writing at all in the past year or so, let alone on this blog. But something has struck me today. That need for self-involved artisitic release and here I am. 

I’ve been feeling aimless again lately, and even though its somewhat cliche, I think thats the time when I am most apt to reflect. I left my job, worked another job and then went back to my old job. Its all sort of mind numbing. The interim job was pretty fantastic, but ended up being too hard to manage financially, and so when a position at my old company oened up, I jumped at the chance, even though emotionally it sort of eats away at me. I have too many responsibilities it seems, to balk at this point in my life. I suppose this is what they tell you adult-hood is supposed to be all about. Or something…

I’m still living with and loving the LadyFriend. Let me tell you somethin’, It is fucking hard work to build a home and a relationship with someone. Especially when you drop stressful careers, budding queerness, and a 3 month old puppy with weird behavorial problems into the mix. If I believed in God, I’d say he’s laughing so hard at me that he just vomitted in his mouth a little.