I feel like ranting, with apologies to John who owns the ranting blog, Talking to Myself. Ask me. I'm sure he will share. By the way, love the new car, John.
I am trying to be a good little girl. At almost sixty and weighing more than I should (you didn't think I'd tell, did you? Come on, now!) it's a little late.
I am trying to be a person of faith, trying to be nice to people I meet, trying to right any wrongs. I want to be healthier, but I ate cold pizza for breakfast. I snapped at my dog when he shook snow all over me and shed on my black sweatpants. The dishes are still in the sink because Hubby didn't do them. Will I leave them till he gets home in the a.m.? Probably. There is a load of clothes in the washer. Will I dry them tonight? Probably not. Then there is that (insert groan and expletive here) basement. This is not the side of me I want my friends to know.
I want, I want, I want. Sometimes I get sick of hearing myself. I want another coat just like my pink fur one (in case it wears out). I want jewelry, not expensive stuff, just flashy. I want to be thinner. I want to go places, see people and do things. I want to lose the fears and the self-centeredness that lives in me. I want a classic car, or three. I want my home spotless and my grandkids to idolize me. I want every person I meet to want to know me because they think I'm funny or smart, beautiful to look at, kind-hearted and sexy as all get-out. I want the friends with whom I have had a falling-out in the past to know that I am truly sorry; I ask their forgiveness. I want to be loved by all.
I don't expect much, do I?
This blogging is good for me. I get to think about things I haven't thought about in decades. I get to speak my mind, or try my hand at fiction. Some people thought TO BE OR NOT TO BE was really ME, in the throes of contemplating suicide. Trust me, I love life far too much. I don't know where that came from. You will see a soon-to-be published story about a rejected woman who is contemplating murder. No, I am not a killer. It is the freedom to be all of these different personalities that I find so exciting.
I am me. I can be lovable and charming, warm and affectionate, happy and funny. Encounter me when I am fully caffeinated and you will notice I am pushy, too talkative and even annoying. Fill me with Lambrusco or gin and tonic--I will be sweet and mellow. Walk with me, dance with me...I become thoughtful and romantic.When I ask questions, I demand answers. If I offend you, I want you to tell me so I can make it all better. I will stand up for what I believe, but I will respect your point of view. I am gentle, but hurt my loved one and I am Mama Grizzly.
I believe everyone has the same rights and freedoms in the U.S. of A. I believe we should use those rights to better ourselves, not expecting anyone else to take care of us. Unfortunately, life has twists and turns. Some have more, some less. Deal with it. I believe in God. If you don't, well, that's up to you. I also like mushroom enchiladas with guacamole salad. To each his own. How boring the world would be if we were all the same.
What can you expect from my blog? Fact and fiction. Honesty and opinion. Maybe a little sarcasm, certainly some mush. A little humor, or my idea of it. I want you to like me--heck, I want EVERYBODY to like me! If you don't, then you don't know what you are missing.
So there it is, my rant of the day. Pretty milque-toast stuff. I never expect to win a Pulitzer.
Hell, why not?
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