I wish I was one of those bloggers who hasn’t posted anything in a long time and writes a post that says: “Dear Precious Readers- I am so sorry for not posting anything. I know you all must be in agony, checking every day to see if I’ve written anything, even if it’s just a picture of a raccoon shitting in a cat’s food dish.”
I don’t know if a picture of a raccoon pooping in a cat’s dish exists. Someone let me know if they find one. If I get on Google to “research” it I’ll be awake for three days, forget to shower, forget about going to work and I won’t know what month it is or who’s president. Well, to be honest, even on good days I couldn’t tell you the difference between sharp cheddar and medium cheddar. Or who the secretary of state is. I don’t care.
I haven’t blogged for awhile because….I’m me. I had a crisis of faith and thought “Fuck this writing shit. I’m never going to be good enough at it.” I would read the Freshly Pressed section and see all the brilliant blogs about politics, abuse, world hunger and I’d get so intimidated. My blogs look like a 12 year old boy wrote them. I wrote a blog about how one of my farts woke me from a dead sleep because I thought someone was in my room clapping their hands together.
A couple months ago I got a job as a package handler at a place we’ll call DOWNS (think of what the opposite of DOWNS is). I loved the hard work, the physical work out but I quit after 3 days for reasons that are probably lame to most of you. I love to swear. Fuck is one of my favorite words but there’s a time and place to bellow FUCK. Each day I would grab packages off a conveyor belt to put in the back of a truck and I would hear “WHO PUT THIS MOTHERFUCKING PACKAGE DOWN THE BELT? I’LL RIP YOUR FUCKING BALLS OFF!”
Huh. Well, I’ll be damned. The job was taking packages off the conveyor belt and sending them on their way. Maybe I was too dumb and should have yelled “WHICK ONE OF YOU TINY LIMP DICKS KEEPS YELLING LIKE AN INSANE SHIT THROWING BABOON? I’D LIKE TO RIP YOUR NON-EXISTANT BALLS OFF!”
I feel guilty for quitting. I feel like a loser. I could have really used the extra paycheck. We can all swear and have fun at work. I do with my co-workers at the library. But this kind of yelling from a group of 20 year old boys was so damn hostile. And then one of them had the bright idea to make a tape ball that felt like it had a rock in the center of it and started throwing it at people. That was the day my brain went “Nope. Not doing this any more.” I don’t like to quit things. I can be stupidly stubborn but I wasn’t going to play that kind of game just to get a paycheck. I still work at the library. I love the job most of the time but now the Bookmobile and services to senior homes is being cut and the whole thing is shady and under-handed. People are starting to talk about going back to school because we see the writing on the wall. What I want to do is quit work for two years and become an embalmer. Yeah, it sounds morbid but it’s always fascinated me. I like the idea of helping people when their life is in shambles and they need someone to take care of a loved one. I don’t believe I can change the world but I can help people through a tragic part of their life.
Well, that’s all. I’m back. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Ready for more?