Stories and morals

26 Jan

mmmmrrruuuuummmmppphhhh *whale sounds* uuuunnnnnnggggghhh *fart*  ooommmppffff.

That would be the series of sounds I make now when I get in and out of bed. Sort of like my very own exciting and extremely sexy mating call. Or a warning sound to Mike that the room is about to smell less pleasant.

Change, it seems, has become an undeniable part of my life these days. Be it my changing body or the change in my ability to do all the things I was once able to.

And man was I in denial about that last bit.

Uh BooPussy!

Scene: I was really excited for the new Cold War Kids album to come out yesterday. They are one of my favorite bands. I la la la la love them and want to have their babies.  Not really, because being pregnant is fucking horrible, but in theory, I want to have their babies.

I downloaded the album Monday night and got in the tub for my nightly soak to ward off achey pains and feelings of wanting to stab people.

Backstage: This year has been filled -ALREADY- with an insane amount of work and activity.  So much so that I decided to take my 6 months preggo ass out of town last weekend. Between work, more work, extra-cirrics, cats that seem to enjoy flooding our apartment, baby arrival anxiety, hormone fueled mood swings, genuine exhaustion, a recent bout of insomnia, fears of gestational diabetes, my new found limited mobility, and the emotional wear of a-holes at work commenting on my non-betrothed – ooohh-you’ve-put-on-a-lot-of-weight status – well, it’s all a little much.

Scene: Track one. Hmmmm, not spectacular. Ummmm, well this is not working for me at all.  At least the bath is relaxing. If only there wasn’t a cat pawing at the door. Meh. Wait, this Cold War Kids album must be a mix up. There is something suspiciously off about this. I think this is a Christian rock band. The CWK are way too creepy to sound like this. It’s like…OMG, it’s like Creed.  What the fuck is going on?

Backstage: Cut to a booth at Chilis. LeVar is literally yelling at me. It’s fine. We’re true friends. We hold each other accountable. We’re writing partners, business partners, and genuine friends. We respect each other. Sure it doesn’t feel good to be on the receiving end of the call out, but it’s necessary.  Words coming at me begin to sound eerily like the same words Mike has been saying for a couple weeks. Withdrawing, shutting down, not engaging. Boopussy. Guilty as charged. I’m overwhelmed. Something has to give.

Scene: Panic has officially set in as I realize that CWK has tried to be all things to all people instead of the band that won my heart with clamoring songs of betrayal, faith and profound lyrical badassery.  They’re trying to do it all and letting down those who love them the most.

Backstage: Word. CWK, me too.

Scene: I can’t even finish this album in one sitting. It’s painful.

So there it is. The new CWK album sucks a bag of dicks. And I simply can’t do it all anymore.  My Type A personality is having some serious issues with this.  A sense of misplaced guilt has sprouted. And I so don’t do guilt.

The moral of this story: I’m sure there comes a time for all of us when this reorganization of life occurs.  Mine just seems to be now.  Scoundrels, how do you juggle it all?  And have you heard the new CWK album? Ugh, right?

And a P.S. to the a-holes at work with the snide comments: DIAF. Seriously.


3 Responses to “Stories and morals”

  1. Becky January 26, 2011 at 12:47 pm #

    I’m so feeling this today, Sport.

    So, for the last two days…I’ve been sick. Like, moaning for my Mama, head hanging over the bathtub, ass on the toilet, eating Saltines and drinking Gatorade sick.

    And I felt guilty.
    I felt bad that I left work to convalesce. Felt bad that I couldn’t keep up with projects that I’ve got going with people I care about who are counting on me to make happen. I felt fucking bad that I was laying in bed shivering and not making good use of the time to clean my kitchen, fold my laundry, get shit done.

    I heard what everyone was saying to me.
    Stay home, stay in bed, take care of you…
    But after hours of lying in bed reading, which is supposed to be relaxing, I had to get up and fucking do something.

    I think it’s hard to be in this world sometimes – and what I mean by that is…we hold ourselves to such high expectations. As a human, we know we need certain things, but fuck if there aren’t 5 thousand other things that need our attention, our concern, our focus.

    It’s exhausting.
    And at the same time, it’s amazing.

    I think what I’m trying to say is, cut yourself some slack, Mama.
    It’s okay to regroup, remember what’s really important, and start again.
    If people love you…they’ll understand.

    Does this make sense?
    Am I spouting nonsense again?

    Fuck it, I’m recovering.

  2. enyabiznass January 26, 2011 at 1:37 pm #

    I can’t really say much. I have to go to therapy 2+ times a week to stop fighting with myself. So, um, what I’ve learned is that you need to stop fighting yourself.

  3. Vaguelycool January 26, 2011 at 9:19 pm #

    Chill, Sport, Chill. You are going through a lot of changes and guess what….you don’t have to be, nor can you be, everything to everyone all the time. I’m totally Type A and I’m HARD on myself, but even I have realised that I have to let some things slide/slip/go in order to function and be a great mother/wife/mother/woman/worker…..and holy shit, the world doesn’t spin off it’s axis each time I do. Perspective. It’s a beautiful thing.

    PS. Booze is not one of the thinks I’m letting go. Just sayin’.

    PPS. Pissed that CWK album sucks butt. I love them. But now I’m mad at them, just for you.

    Chin up, my literary hero. Chin up.

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