Quitting Time? Instead, Lets Just Go with a Free Pass for Thing #6.

Tell a story that begins with a ransom note.

Really? This is what I have to do now? Oh man, I’m really wishing I hadn’t said I’d do this. But as I do not follow through on most things, I really want to on this one. I don’t know why. I think because if I can follow through on this, I can follow through on anything. Isn’t that how it works? By strengthening my willpower and self discipline in one area of my life, I can strengthen it in others. Like, it automatically spills over? Except, just the other day I read that you only have a certain amount of willpower and so if you use it up in one area you have none left in another. As in, do not try to lose weight and open a business at the same time because you won’t have enough self discipline for both. So, does that mean if I try and be consistent with my blog I will fall off the wagon with my novel?

Maybe I should quit….

It’s for my own good, right?

Only, it will just make me feel like shit for quitting something else. And at least I’m writing. I just need to find a healthy balance between blogging and writing my novel and doing everything else I need to do in a day. And I’m tapping into my creativity, right? So, this will make me want to keep writing my novel because it’s making me show up at my computer every day with all these great, inspirational ideas. But then again, sometimes it feels like I only have so much creative juice and if I use it up here, I have none left for later.

Damn I’m whiny today. See what happens when I don’t want to do something? All my creativity flows into making up excuses. And I wonder why my kids are such experts at it…

Okay, fine. A ransom note….

You know what? I’m making up some new rules here. I’m going to give myself ten free passes. Ten skip overs. If I really don’t want to do it, for whatever reason (like today I’m too tired to think), I can do the next item on the page. That’s 10 passes out of 642. Really, it’s not that much, right? And if I use up all ten of them, well then, I will have to go back and do those which were skipped over in order to earn more passes. There. Good. Everyone in favor say, yay?

Y-fuckin’-AY!

Now that we’ve agreed on this, I feel a little less claustrophobic.

And onto the next page. Today’s new prompts are three shorter ones. Here we go:

Something you had that was stolen:

Oh, I’m not sure about that. I don’t remember really having anything stolen. I’ve been broken into, but never had anything stolen before. Maybe because I never had anything worth stealing. Oh, wait a minute, some thieves busted into my car one day, ripped open my purse that had been left in there but didn’t take anything. They did steal CDs though, which I get a kick out of. Why? Because there would have been a bunch of little shits running around trying to sell Broadway musicals and Harry Connick Jr albums. Mamma Mia, Rent, Phantom of the Opera, Moulin Rouge. Then again, you never know, maybe Rent inspired them to live “for today” and have since turned their lives around and are pursuing goals that don’t involve breaking into cars for drug money.

I will say though, as a child, I have stolen. For which I still feel incredibly guilty. Let me elaborate before you judge me….

I never had anything like the other kids did. No, I wasn’t hard done by or anything, but my parents never bought us stuff because it was cool or we wanted it or anything like that. We got the cheapest school supplies, one outfit at the beginning of the year and that was it, one present at Christmas time, a shirt at Easter and that was about it (yeah, yeah, of course I’m sure there was more. I’m going for effect here. If I act like I was spoiled do you think I’d get any sympathy? No, I didn’t think so). Any extras we had were from birthday parties (of which we had very few) or from our own earnings, which were limited until we started babysitting as allowances were nonexistent in our house. Which is fine. I’m not complaining, I’m just trying to set up the “poor RJ” vibe ahead of time before you realize what a terrible person I was.

I wanted lots of things, especially that which the other kids had. I felt like I had no value just as myself and therefore needed things to make myself a worthy friend-candidate for those whose parents bought them lots of shit. I wanted CDs and music and posters and movies and accessories and clothes because I felt like that was the only way to fit in. And so, a few times, I stole them. I know, it was such a stupid, idiotic, ridiculous thing to do. But I did. And I have been carrying that around for over twenty years.

Wow. It feels good to get that out, and now that it is, I might as well finish it.

For those of you (there were only 2 and they weren’t friends from in town but those I met on holiday once with my parents) who found a shirt, some NKOTB posters (although, at the time they still were New Kids On The Block), and some CDs had gone missing, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. I was a silly, lost little girl who had no idea what she was doing. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

Oh, and I stole a pack of pink Hubba Bubba from Safeway when I was six years old. Safeway, I apologize.

I would add in the four-colored pen I stole from my sister when we were kids, but I got caught with that one and was already punished for it, so I figure that karma has been dealt with.

For those of you considering theft, don’t. Just go without it. That kind of guilt is not worth living with.

Alright, now that we’ve established I was a shitty little thief, lets move on…

The long-lost roommate.

Well, there’s two of them, and one is not lost as I know where she lives and the other, well, yeah, I have no idea where the hell she is. Why? Because I speak to neither of them. As far as I’m considered, I got treated pretty damn shitty in both those cases. But I’m sure they had their reasons. I’m sure if I asked them they’d give me a list of why they felt they could treat me the way they did (one actually did. Sent me a huge long email with a list of my transgressions). I don’t know why I could never live with a roommate. I wondered if I’m just not roommate material, or if I just picked shitty roommates. And by shitty, I just mean selfish.

Would things have been better if I was just able to let things go? Probably. Did I try? Yeah. Did I try hard enough? Probably not. Did I have any skills in conflict resolution at 18 years old? Nope. None. Nadda. My method was to retreat. In the case of roommates, it was to retreat within myself to protect whatever self esteem I had left, to nurse my wounds and to avoid getting anymore. Do I wish now that I would have dealt with it better? Yes. Do I think I’m better off without those people? Probably, as they also had their own demons to deal with.

But when it comes down to it, living with other people is hard. At least it was for me. It made me moody and depressed and probably a little too sensitive. So in this case, I’m okay having a long lost roommate and, honestly, I’m not sad they’re lost. I am okay if they stay that way. If I ran into them on the street, I’d probably say “hi, what are you up to now?” But it wouldn’t go any further than that. When you spend that much time in a small space with someone who treats you like crap, decades are definitely the time required to be apart to heal that wound.

On a bright note, my husband has not left me. So that means I must have gotten to be a better roommate. Or he puts up with me because of other rewards. And by that I mean, my cooking. Yes, my cooking. Or, my ability to buy takeout…

Anyways, now that everyone is uncomfortable….

What a character holding a blue object is thinking right now.

“Holy shit, Zeus is an asshole bastard who needs a lesson in forgiveness.”

Yes, I am thinking of Atlas holding up the world. I mean, really, how much punishment is really necessary for one Titan? He’s his damn Uncle for Aprodite’s sake (or insert whichever god you’d like here. I’m just trying to go with the ancient greek vibe here, imagining their own little swears). Could Zeus not have had a little sympathy for his own family and cut him a break? At the very least send in a little relief once in a while? Make Heracles hold up the world for a while to give Atlas a chance to redeem himself?

Then again, I’m not really one for capital punishment, or in Atlas’ case, worldy punishment.

And so ends my 6th of 642 Things.

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