One day you will live on your own.
I did a really shitty job of painting my room. At this time last year, when I was actually painting it and my tiny little girl arms got really tired reaching up real high with a roller to cover everything, I thought I did an effing bang up goddamn job, but now the things I see are the stupid mistakes on the ceiling and the little spots on the carpet I have to take care of, not to mention the fact that parts of the wall are much bluer than others (oops, I think I may have gotten a little tired of the FIVE HUNDRED COATS OF PAINT NECESSARY TO PAINT A GODDAMN ROOM GODDAMN BLUE. Never again, I tell you. Never again).
But there's a part of me that's really happy that I can live for a year in the midst of such imperfection and still consider it perfect.
Oh, blah, whatever. I can't Pollyanna my way out of the fact that I STILL haven't painted my goddamn walls back to a neutral color, and I have a week of Pre-AP conference staring me in the face. Shit! SHITSHITSHIT!
Maybe this will work: Gee, guys. I'm painting mah room, shucks. Painting sure is fun, consarnit. I could paint all day and never notice, golly gosh. Paint paint paint, gee. The hours fly by like hours, and you'd never know. Shucks. I could paint for the rest of mah life, gee-willy-whizz-bang.
Oh, fuck it.
The fact that I am not now being inundated with phone calls to take over my room painting for the fun of it makes me think that Tom Sawyer was an asshole and that Mark Twain is a tool. I even used Mark Twain language! Dammit!
But I am so young. And I feel alive. And one day I will live on my own (although I do have the power now to never paint my room blue again, which I won't. Whatever, I just wanted to quote that song. Which you should all listen to. It's Voxtrot, and it's excellent. If my recommendation isn't enough, Garrison introduced me to it, and he's got excellent musical taste. Go buy it! Now! You really should...)
Anyway, if you're looking for me, for the next week, I'll be painting. Or killing myself. I don't know which; call it in the air.
But there's a part of me that's really happy that I can live for a year in the midst of such imperfection and still consider it perfect.
Oh, blah, whatever. I can't Pollyanna my way out of the fact that I STILL haven't painted my goddamn walls back to a neutral color, and I have a week of Pre-AP conference staring me in the face. Shit! SHITSHITSHIT!
Maybe this will work: Gee, guys. I'm painting mah room, shucks. Painting sure is fun, consarnit. I could paint all day and never notice, golly gosh. Paint paint paint, gee. The hours fly by like hours, and you'd never know. Shucks. I could paint for the rest of mah life, gee-willy-whizz-bang.
Oh, fuck it.
The fact that I am not now being inundated with phone calls to take over my room painting for the fun of it makes me think that Tom Sawyer was an asshole and that Mark Twain is a tool. I even used Mark Twain language! Dammit!
But I am so young. And I feel alive. And one day I will live on my own (although I do have the power now to never paint my room blue again, which I won't. Whatever, I just wanted to quote that song. Which you should all listen to. It's Voxtrot, and it's excellent. If my recommendation isn't enough, Garrison introduced me to it, and he's got excellent musical taste. Go buy it! Now! You really should...)
Anyway, if you're looking for me, for the next week, I'll be painting. Or killing myself. I don't know which; call it in the air.