To rant or not to rant. Yeah, I’m still on that kick. Especially since (sigh) things have not gotten easier since last week. And so, I’m tempted—soooo tempted—to unleash all of the pent up frustration, sadness, anger and despondency about the current condition of my life. When I’m in this space, the blog seems like a nice little clay pot that I’ve hidden away in the closet. When no one is looking I sneak it out and put little pieces of text in it, put the lid back on, and hide it away. The only thing: once I close the lid and the closet I have a sneaking suspicion that everyone else in the world can see what I’ve written. Although there’s little way of knowing for sure. I fear that I’ve always harbored the exhibitionist tendency…which makes my desire to vent even stronger. The dark side of the force is calling me…I. Shall. Resist.
Sitting here in the pre-family rush hour (smell the quiet—like honeysuckle and chocolate, right?) I realize that my life has an infrastructure, the support beams of which are currently (1) progress at work, (2) reciprocal intimacy with my mate, (3) “alone time” of some sort and (4) REAL conversation with someone I can trust. Absent these things I get depressed (check); feel resentful toward my spouse (check); get fat and break out in pimples (check); and shoot off my mouth to (fill in the blank) colleagues/moms at the preschool/relatives after which I think to myself “...hmm…I don’t think I should have said that….” (check). Oh, and I also engage in inappropriate shopping and excessive reality TV watching. Check.
More later.
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