The Real Deal

So Danielle has made me think alot about what people put in their blogs and how they present themselves to the world.

I've never wanted to be anything less than genuine.

Here's the real deal: My mom, who is on social security, took ME shopping today so I could use foodstamps money because I have no other money.

True story.

Know what else is true? I can't seem to make myself give a flying fuck about cleaning the house. I love this apartment and when we moved in I swore up and down that I would keep it neat and tidy and organized and liveable. For a while there I did a fanstastic job.

Now? Not so much. I love the place as much as ever-- maybe more than ever-- but for some reason I can't seem to motivate my ass to pick up around here and do the goddamn dishes.

Know why? I think I know why. I think I'm pretty fucking sure we aren't going to be living here too much longer.

I just don't see any possible way.

And that breaks my heart.

So maybe this is why I don't tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth in the blogosphere. Maybe this is why people paint those white picket fences and trim their metaphorical lawns for digital curb appeal... because behind it the walls are crumbling and everything smells like decay and disaster.

List of good things:
Aaron. I can't say enough good things about him. He's fantastic, and he doesn't deserve the debt I've dragged him into!

Danielle & Adam- amazing friends, really awesome, and they have a baby on the way whom I already love to pieces.

My family. I'm so grateful for everything, all their many kindenesses and their generosity and their continued support.

My kittens? Lame, I know, but they always seem to know how to cheer me when I'm lonesome.

My health. Alot of people don't have it and I must be grateful for it.

My education. Little good though it seems to be doing me in the jobsearch presently, I'm grateful to have had the opportunity and nothing can erase the accomplishment.

The roof over my head, the clothes on my back, the food in my pantry- though I am fully aware that none of them are guaranteed forever or even for the next few months.

This is ridiculous. This is why people don't blog this shit. I don't need anyone pitying me or feeling sorry or any of that. I'm just trying to work through shit and maybe when\if I am am ever employed I can afford a proper therapist instead of a blinking cursor and the catharsis of the internet.

I want to throw out every dirty dish, every piece of laundry, every ill that is piling up on the coffee table.

Instead why don't I try doing something more productive? I'm going to go do some fucking dishes. God knows I did little else of value today.