Apologies for my tardiness when it comes to writing this latest blog post. I’ve been suffering with a most excellent case of writers block and distracting myself with shite like Neflix, walking in the rain and stealing my friend’s DJ decks at an attempt to be the coolest person you will ever know. But alas here I am. I know the best thing to get over writers block is to just simply write something… anything, but the blinking cursor on my screen has been pissing me off so instead of writing I had to go play with a bottle of vodka.
We are half way through the first month of a new year and in keeping with tradition, I made no resolutions because I’m bored of disappointing myself. Of course I want this year to be a magnificent one and in doing so I had a small epiphany. If I give less fucks… will that ultimately make me feel happier? The answer was a resounding yes. Now I’m not talking about becoming hideously self involved and caring less about about the things that matter, I just mean stop trying to control other head wrecking issues I need to let the hell go. The baggage that needed to be expunged outta my life years ago. Here are a few things I intend to give less of a shit about…
Guilt has been defined as an emotion that one attributes to something they have morally violated. They have broken a belief, rule or standard they believe in. This can be linked directly to regret and fear of doing the same thing again. I’ve done some pretty stupid shit over the years based on many factors like my age, my experience, my location and copious amounts of alcohol, but I can’t undo it. It’s done. I can reflect on it but I’m shedding the guilt and moving on.
Yes I like to swear! No shit! My blog is littered with sometimes eye watering accounts of an explicit nature. However, I’m not really into vulgarity for the sake of it… I just think certain times the ‘F word’ expresses something that “oh darn it!” really can’t achieve.
Living for the moment
Screw this cliché in all its forms and motivational memes! Making each and every moment count is near impossible when the mundane but necessary parts of life happen. I ain’t got time to be running away with the circus or throwing myself outta a plane for shits and giggles. So I’m gonna enjoy what I have going on right now and stop trying to search for meaning in the things that are so literal it’s embarrassing. I’m also going to quit believing that everything I have done so far in my life has led to this moment… because right now… in this moment… I’m sat in a dressing gown with cereal on my face and hair I refuse to comb.
Lying to myself
I tell myself lies all the time. It’s like I try to Jedi mind trick myself into thinking things are fine… when in fact all I want to do is dramatically throw myself onto a cushioned surface and weep for days! It’s ok not to be ok… like really. What is it that I’m trying to prove? And to whom… If I can’t trust myself or my instincts, then how the hell can I expect anyone else to! I also need to stop trying to convince myself that a bad decision was a right one in disguise… when in fact it was straight up terrible and I should be ashamed of myself! I can’t promise to stop making bad choices, but I can admit that they made no sense… at all.
I still enjoy watching cartoons, laughing inappropriately and writing down the names of famous hot celebrities to see if it’s possible to hyphenate our surnames when we obviously get married! Why… because fuck you that’s why!
In fairness, I fucked this idea of fitting in right out the window when I decided to sport a fairly large, blonde Mohawk to my best friend’s wedding. But it is necessary to stop trying to force myself into a box and conform to whatever it is my mates are doing for fear of being left out.
Listening to my heart
My heart is a dickhead. It likes to trick me into making wild ridiculous declarations of love that has had me crying into a bottle of Pinot Grigio far too often. Follow your heart? No! Perhaps pretend to listen to it but then do the exact opposite! My heart talks shit and I will be seeking counsel from my brain… ignoring that stupid lump of muscle in my chest.
Planning for the future
Plans are shit! I would really love to think that plans have some relevance, just like I would love to think about Mila Kunis French kissing me all day long BUT it’s not gonna happen. You think you’re so clever making elaborate decisions and powerpoint presentations, but I find best laid plans usually go tits up and you’re left Forest Gumping it all the same. Less planning and procrastinating… and more coming the fuck on Bridget!