Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
April 3, 2012
seriously
Dear Guys on Dating Sites,
Please do not lie about your height. It's just silly. I will notice, and I will be annoyed. Also, please do not use photos that are really outdated. I will notice that, too. You are not 21 anymore! That's why we're here, right? Get over it. Oh, and if you are going to ask me to drive 30 miles out of my way to meet you, you had better be extremely good looking, or extremely charming, or both. If you ask me to drive 50 miles, to meet you in your own town, I will not even answer. Because you're a jerk. It's a first date for crying out loud. I don't even know if I'll like you yet, and gas costs $4.39 a gallon.
Thank you for your time,
Vera
April 8, 2011
unfinished
I am seized once again by the need to do something. Something meaningful, for my children. And once again, nothing seems sufficient -- because nothing is sufficient. Because no matter what I do, I can't shake the belief in my gut that they're simply not paying attention, our only time together is over and they're gone forever, and all my antics are an empty charade, and if it's only to placate myself then what the fuck is the point? Why not just give it up, just let it go?
My efforts feel ill-timed, amateur, self-indulgent. Look, Self! Look how much I love them! Look world, look! Look how I miss what I never really had! Look, baby! Look how I would have cared for you. Look at what you're missing! Why didn't you stay? Why was I not enough for you?
Ah.
There it is.
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* pause for tears *
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I tried to make a painting today, but I didn't finish it. And I feel defeated, I feel like I failed, because I couldn't finish this little 8x10 painting that I had envisioned in my head. And even though I know "real" paintings might take days and weeks and even years, I still feel like I failed. Maybe it's my long history of unfinished creative projects, haunting me. Clothes, blankets, stories, scripts, drawings, paintings, films, piano, guitar, original music... Oh, and babies.
I've still never quite finished a baby.
My efforts feel ill-timed, amateur, self-indulgent. Look, Self! Look how much I love them! Look world, look! Look how I miss what I never really had! Look, baby! Look how I would have cared for you. Look at what you're missing! Why didn't you stay? Why was I not enough for you?
Ah.
There it is.
----------
* pause for tears *
----------
I tried to make a painting today, but I didn't finish it. And I feel defeated, I feel like I failed, because I couldn't finish this little 8x10 painting that I had envisioned in my head. And even though I know "real" paintings might take days and weeks and even years, I still feel like I failed. Maybe it's my long history of unfinished creative projects, haunting me. Clothes, blankets, stories, scripts, drawings, paintings, films, piano, guitar, original music... Oh, and babies.
I've still never quite finished a baby.
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