Is that Wrong?

There are so many things that happen around me that I don't seem to understand or things that I do and I'm not sure it's acceptable. So I wanted to share.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

I found out that someone I am in a club with has a blog (Domestic Oblivion). Since I find her hysterical - I figured I'd check it out. I'm now hooked. I can't stop until I've reached the latest post. I don't do the dishes, I don't clean my desk, I ignore my kids - is that wrong? To be so absorbed in someone else's shit that you forget your own? Of course, I can't post a comment to her until I finish. Would hate to post a comment on something she said a year ago - but I'm going to. I think it might become one of my daily net-checks.

Now, because of this, I've decided that I need to blog. For any real reason? Nope. Do I have anything really profound to announce? Nope. Do I feel that someone’s life might be altered by anything I have to write? Nope. It's all purely selfish. I keep trying to keep a journal but who has time to actually take pen to paper? I tried an online personal diary but it ended up just being a record of all the crap my oldest kid had to put up from his dad. This might be the next best thing. I need to dump all these feelings and thoughts; my husband reminds me all the time that he's not my girlfriend so really doesn't want to chat about "girl stuff" and all my friends are busy so why not unleash elsewhere? So here we go. "Is that Wrong?" is born. And in perfect timing because I'm really pissy and need to get rid of thoughts before I pull a "Ya-Ya". Remember "Ya, Ya Sisterhood" when Ashley Judd just leaves everything and everyone, drives off in her slip and fur coat just to hide out in some random hotel, drinking and smoking and sleeping? I want to do that. I want to just run away from everything. Drink like I don't have to get up and take care of kids. Smoke like I didn't quit 6 years ago and sleep like I've got the flu. Of course, I'd never do it. Not because my husband couldn't take care of thing without me (aside from actually deep-cleaning the house and doing laundry, he's totally self-sufficient), but I would be riddled with self-imposed guilt because I really should be ironing shirts and picking up toys instead of smoking & drinking myself to sleep.

So we’ll ride this out. See if it works. See if anyone reads it. Maybe I’ll turn out to actually be funny.


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