Time To Write Or Get Off The Pot

Image Credit ~ Unknown

How the fuck is it past mid-April already!? Arrrgh. So much for a whiz-bang start to the year. I was hoping that 2017 would be less stressful than 2016, but so far, it’s been about the same. Yeah…

I’m hoping beyond hope right now that we’re on an upswing though.. that some fucking stars or planets (or shit, I’ll take some black holes at this rate) will align in my favor any minute now and life will just calm her shit down so I can get shit done.

However, as I keep getting older, I have come to realize there will be no better time than now. Funny how that works out. I cannot keep pushing my writing, my desires, my goals to the background of my day to day life. If I had a “real job”, I wouldn’t be doing that. I’d be sucking it up… the aches, the pains, the fatigue, the stress, the other stupid life shit that pops up from time to time, and I would just deal with it as I do my job.

I was once a young woman in her early 30s who dealt with a heart-wrenching breakup, a move to a new place back on her own again, more work responsibilities, an emotionally draining relationship with a mother two hours away who had broken her hip and needed assistance, AND a new romantic relationship all within a span of about three months. I look back on that time now and shake my head in amazement. Did I take speed and not remember? How did I have the energy and stamina for all that? Both my brain and my body must have been thriving on pure adrenaline and endorphins.

So, why the fuck am I treating my writing for this website as well as my dreams of finishing a novel as if it’s just some inconsequential hobby? It’s important to me. I have never wanted anything else so much as to be able to say to myself: “You did it. It took you a long-ass time, but you did it. You wrote a novel. Fuck yeah, bitch.”

And after that moment of self-congratulatory goodness, I high five myself but miss and in the process knock my artsy, cat-eye frames off my smug face. And like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, my legs get entangled with each other and begin to buckle as my glasses evade my grasp. I then stumble for a few more steps, miraculously regain my balance, and feel a brief second of triumph for not falling on my ass before hearing the inevitable crunch that makes every nerd cringe with despair. Broken glass and shards of hipster plastic lay beneath my feet.

Because being a klutz and accidentally hurting myself or breaking something is all I know, people. It’s all I know.

Anyway, so yeah… where was I?

Oh yeah, this thing called writing that I’m supposedly doing. Yeah, I gotta start doing it. Like for reals. It’s now or never. And ya know what, now is as good as time as any.

It’s time for me to shit – er… write or get off the pot.

Actually, I may have to shit now too. The husband and I are currently torturing ourselves with a slightly modified Whole30 bullshit diet. (We’re only eliminating wheat, dairy, sugar, and alcohol – fuck the system for saying no to legumes and a limited amount of healthy grains.) We just thought our stressful lives could be made more fun without cheese, beer, and a fucking cupcake sundae for a whole month. Hahahahahahaha.

In reality, a new doctor recommended I try Whole30 to give my tummy a rest and a chance to heal as well as to see if it helps with any of my ailments. But I tell ya, if I eat any more goddamned eggs, I’m either gonna hurl or be sittin’ on the toilet for a long, long time.

And with that, I leave you.

xo~ Frani

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Wanderlust I Must ~ Visualization

Spa Day

All I can think of today is this line from 40 Year Old Virgin… “God, I hope I get my period soon. I’m in a bad mood.” 

Ladies, amirite?

Whether or not my hormones are the cause of my shitty mood, who’s to say? But, every little thing is pissing me off today.

I’ve exercised. I drank some tea. I put on some music. I ate some Nutella. (That’s supposed to help, right!?)

And… blargh.

Maybe a bubble bath will be in order for this evening?

Or a few shots of whiskey?

Or both.

I can feel the knots in my shoulders.

The sad thing is that I foresee the next couple months being stressful as hell, so this is not a good sign that I’m already not handling it well.

I’m like a sponge. I absorb energy. Yeah, I’m so like Superman. To be more like Superman, of course, I need to absorb only the yellow sun and bounce off the negative and stressful vibes that surround me like bullets. That’s difficult. My mental prowess can usually hold my own shit, but it may collapse from the weight and pressure that others are projecting my way.

The kicker is that what may make me snap will be the tiniest of things… like dropping my spoonful of Nutella.

All I can do at the moment that seems to somewhat temporarily help is visualization. I visualize a giant balloon containing all my troubles and issues that are wreaking havoc on my mind and blowing it as far away from me as possible. I pop it with a giant needle so the problems scatter over an empty field.

Then I hope a massive wind doesn’t pick up in my direction and blow them right back into my face.

And this is my brain on stress.

Happy Monday! ;)

Let’s all go to our happy places and have a drink. And stop worrying so much. 

xo~ Frani

p.s. Check out Sandra Bullock’s super inspiring surprise commencement speech!

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