ass fire

I wonder why I am so difficult to 'get.' I am starting to think that maybe I truly do just march to the beat of that goddamn lame-ass so-called 'different' drummer. A percussionist fuckbag who keeps fucking with my life. Thanks drummer boy. You suck.

But yeah, here's the deal: So I sit in those long, stupid meetings, and look around, incredulously, at all the seriously serious, brow-beaten faces and think to myself: Are you fucking kidding me? Is this really happening? Are we really wasting our lives on this precious Earth debating the color (should it be orange or pink? Hmm wow, now that's a doozie…) for a 'Lowest Prices of the Season' printed weekly circular?!?!

I think: dude, that circular is the liner of a goddamn birdcage. That is not going to matter a hill of beans difference to ANYONE. Your audience is already captive. They're gonna clip your coupons no matter if your banner is blue or pink or cow shit brown. For everyone else, it's paper kindling or a birdcage liner. And how in hell do you stop these damn mailbox cloggers from coming every week anyway? I can't help but think so far beyond these details, I am utterly incapable of being transfixed by minutiae. I don't mean to not fit in, I just f--ing don't. I try and I try. And I just don't.

I hate to continue to disappoint. But I am a square peg. I just am.

And so here we are again.

Nerd girl with a nice rack and a good sense of humor (do I see a personals ad in my future) finds herself unemployed. One nice-racked nerd-girl seeks knight in shining corduroy for long walks on the beach and infinite shining storytelling (uttered from my nerdy, however glossy and refined, lips).

I just need to be able to pay my bills. What else can I do to make money?

(Stripping is out. Retail doesn't pay. I am a terrible waitress…)

One of my good friends was laid off last week. But he found something better, hopefully - he is going to work with our old boss who started his own shop. This is a constant creative battle for all of us, the financial details, the lack of quality work required, and I just don't want to beat myself up about it. I can't and I won't.

But I am tired and burned out, on this weird little world I keep trying to fit myself in. It's like a fat girl trying to squeeze into a skinny girl's dress. Nah, it's more like a smart, worldly, open-minded and openhearted girl trying to pretend she likes driving a Ford Aspire.

Or, as my ex-sister-in-law used to call it: the Ford Ass Fire.

No thanks.

Not happenin'.

No Ford Ass Fire for this girl.

I will, however, ASPIRE.

And that's what's gonna keep me going. And going.

Stay tuned, friends. All three of you. I appreciate your love and concern. Really I do.

But we all know, like Popeye, 'I 'yam what I 'yam'" and there's little we can do to change that.

Acceptance.

This is my one life. I'm happy I have more chances than most to experience more and more and more, and it's never been boring to be me. Never boring.

So even if I died tomorrow, I could honestly say that I've had richer, more varied, more amazing, crazy, wonderful, awful, and life-charging-ahead experiences than most. And who's to say that's not what we're here to do? Who said we're supposed to step into a neat, tidy box and decay there? Surely not I.

And don't call me Shirley.