Will There Be A Round Two?

My blog turned one year old today. I don't know if that should really matter, but I kinda like the idea of mile markers. See, the thing about mile markers is too many people let the mile markers dicate them: the way you should behave, what you should own and not own, how successful you should be professionally and personally, and the list goes on.

That's all fine if that's the way you choose to live. But I think, too many times, people don't even think about the fact that they even have a choice. Either they lose sight of the option altogether or they have never stopped to ask the question, "Why should I be/do/have anything by a certain age (read: time)."

I choose to not live by those mile markers. Instead, I just use them for what they are: measurements. It's not a bad idea to have a tangible gauge. It helps me to recognize patterns and keeps me from repeating mistakes.

So none of this "I should be married", "I should have kids", "I should be more successful", "I should" "I should" "I should" for me. Fuck that. No, I shouldn't, especially if it's not what I want. For me, it's more like, "Hey, idiot, how long are you gonna waste time on X" or "I want to work towards this in the next year" or "I really need to take care of this. It's been two years."

As for my blog, what does a year mean to me? It means that when I look back at the things I want my life to be about, I am actually doing it and have been for a year. Sometimes it's easy for me to not think of my blog as "writing", like if I say, "I really want to write more." And I just realized that I'm actually do it. Who cares if it's some measley and commonplace internet self publishing. I'm doing it.

Sure, it's all over place. Unfocused. Self indulgent. It's me. And now I'm finally getting around to my original intent of a post:

I watched a documentary on child pageants a few years ago. This one trashy Florida woman used her kid as a barbie doll. Poor kid's gonna be really screwed up. Aside from that I found something hilarious that I've never forgotten.

The woman takes her kid to Alabama to these two flaming queens' estate where they run a business training girls to win beauty pageants. They had three little winners of their own, kinda like their testimonals. Anyway, when the woman pulls up to their place, she just creams herself - the shallow, shallow, lustful hag that she is. And her measure of their wealth and success was captured in this one statement:

"Oh my god. This is soooo nice. Look, not one pine tree."

I didn't even know there was anything wrong with pine trees.

~the lady love