A Happy Little Vent.

Maybe. Maybe. I should have thought more about moving to the mountains.

Maybe. Maybe. I should have thought more about moving to the mountains.

I feel like I’m living the life of a 45 year-old divorcee in stretchy pants who watches too much Ink Master because she’s in love with Chris Nunez. Listen. Most of that is true, aside from my age. I’m a 35 year-old-never-married-divorcee who is grappling with an approaching birthday, societal expectations and an overwhelming desire to abandon ship.

I came to the mountains to soul-search my way to a shiny new career. Like anything I do, all-or-nothing, I jumped the gun before I thought about the target. I’m a city girl by heart. I’ve lived in urban metropolises since the age of 18. I enjoy the pulse, vibe and variety of city life. You don’t do much thinking in the city because you never have time. You’re on the go. Making moves. Working your way to the top of something that you hope pays off in the end. Sometimes it does. Sometimes, like me, you fall on your face and have to put yourself in a place with no distractions. Just me, the mountains, an axe and my best Jack Nicholson-a-la-The Shining impression.

It seems my Michael-Jackson-make-a-change lifestyle is boring me to death. If I wanted seclusion I should chosen a spot closer to a city. Like Central Park. Prescott is turning out to be one of those places you raise a family. Well. Guess what. My uterus is high and dry and in no mood to procreate another version of my fucked-up self. I’d rather rope-tie my legs to a tractor and get drug along the desert dust. In fact, that sounds like the kind of fun you have here. Perhaps through my venting I’ve invented a new way to entertain myself.

Perhaps not. At least I have my Hobbit Movie countdown: 7.5 days.

Then there’s always that world ending thing. I guess we all have something to look forward to.

I understand it’s time to pick my chin up and shine a light of gratitude on my situation – because I have a lot to be thankful for. However, venting is something I have to do to feel human. I can’t live in a constant state of positive thinking. That’s how Tony Little’s hair became what it is today. A ponytail’s worth of positive thinking:

tony_little

I’m a thinker second and a worrier first. One of the big differences I’ve noticed being from the Northeast and living in Arizona is that everyone tells me I worry too much. Well no shit. I’m from the Northeast. If you’re not worried – you’re worrying about why you’re not worrying. Anxiety is like breathing. Not too deeply, mind you.

Personally being type-A is A-ok. Who’s says a little OCD doesn’t go a long way. You can accomplish a lot with my type of personality. It makes walking through depression ten times the fun. Just think! I want to lay in bed and feel sorry for myself but I can’t because I have to much to do. Even with a TOD (touch of depression) there are lists to be made, errands to be run and 101 ways to bitch and complain about things you should be thankful for.

Thanks for reading this. Here’s a happy little song by Uncle Roy to remind us all of our water-downed memories – not really but man! this song is my current master jam.

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One Response to A Happy Little Vent.

  1. Pingback: Dig: Some new news about the Notorious BIG. | ladytiger

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