Here’s to mothers and to trying

Thank God for mothers, and if you’re an atheist then thank … the universe? Thank goodness. I love mine, and there are moments times when I am acutely aware of how fortunate I am. She’s funny, kind and well, very motherly. Seldom do I see her genuinely serious and friends, those are times to thread lightly. Like right now, I can just walk up to her and give her an impromptu hug (most hugs are, aren’t they?) and she’ll give me a mama grizzly’s feathery embrace.

Why am I thinking about mam? I’m pissed at particularly no once person or group of persons, at the entire world actually and she makes me feel better. I want to be able to talk freely, to express myself without fear of exposing a weakness and generally not give a single crap about bigoted idiots (and I mean completely not waste any braincells) because there are some things one just can’t help at a whim. But that’s a perfect world. Of course I can abruptly choose not to but that’s instability right there. I try to be this tough girl out and about when I’m still plagued by major insecurities and my mind is split and I have to consciously make decisions of what to say in response to someone. Conflicted. I will add that I’m grumpy today.

Let me tell you something, though I truly make attempts to think before I speak, it doesn’t really work out for me and I kick myself in the arse. I spew nonsense if I’m not careful and that’s not the same thing as speaking my mind. It wanders constantly, that thing in my head. While change and practice makes a habit, if it just doesn’t take to me then it probably means that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself because then I’d be pretending. That means that I’m faking to cope idiocy, hypocrisy and ignorance,  but is that so bad? I don’t think so because all I’d be doing is to try to alter the way I respond to stimuli; in an intelligent and dignified manner. It does feel restricting and frustrating. By the time that frustration stews and boils I’ll eventually really don’t give a feck. Then that goes away too. Repeat.

I'd rather be reading.

I’d rather be reading.

Well this isn’t an ideal world because we’ll all have it tailored to suit ourselves and the fact is that we have only one world and we must share. The one we live in is peppered with individual and collective personalities and whilst interacting we influence each other and those ways have their own results. To tell you the truth, I’d settle for this reality. It could be worse. It is getting there. People are trying and are making a positive difference. Besides what choice do I have. Were it up to me I’d jump in to an alternate universe where The Doctor is real, or Harry Potter. It’s a messed up an beautiful world and perfect is overrated and I realize that I am sounding much less-pissed but I’m not really. I feel the same since writing this has not resolved anything, only to reaffirm what I already believe.

This is off topic but there are choices even when we think that there aren’t. Why they seem non-existent is because that the options available are unbearable to contemplate much less accept. You either do or you don’t, each comes along with their own price tag. I cope so far by living in a thin transparent veiled bubble and it can pop at any second. My aim in writing and living each day is to grow a think skin because it is hell and heaven out of it and I need to be ready.

It’s a good life, all in all. For now I will bask in the fictitious presence of fictional characters and write odes to Netflix.


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