I haven’t always made the wisest decisions. This certainly rings true in the last couple years or so. A lot of these naughty decisions were spur of the moments, selfish IOU’s to myself and reckless lack of ‘thinking’. BUT! Shit happens.
Some substandard choices I’ve made in my life time are:
*A year diet plan of breakfast Plan B.
*Sleeping with a college professor. I really wanted an A, but he gave me a…..wait for it….D! Kidding, I got an A. I will say I did deserve that A though.
*Drunk texting said Professor a few years later. What about? I vaguely recall, but I suspect it had to do with our college study sessions.
*Almost got escorted out of an Adam Carolla Comedy Show. BUT, I DIDN’T! Guess you could say, I was a couple bottles in on Mangria, and though my Canuck charm would lure him to join me for shots, but alas he shot me down and then some.
*Karaoke to Spice Girls. Just no, no one should ever do it.
*The first thing I ever stole, when I was in college, was a piece of cardboard that said Fart Card. Fucking, dumbest thing you could ever buy, let alone steal.
So there are more to this list (obvi) like sleeping with a married man times a few, but we all know these harlot stories of mine. So lets fucking move on already.
As mentioned, I’ve made some naughty choices. But, all of these decisions I have made, have inspired me. They gave me stories to write to about, memories to share, and experiences to learn from. They have made me, me. Shaped who I have not become, but am currently becoming, and for me it’s exciting. (It’s like puberty all over again, except this time, when my panties make me look like I’ve been on a ketchup diet it’s a mother fucking blessing.)
Now, being off medication and reflecting on what was instead of what could have been, I’m discovering new attributes about myself and so far, it’s rather encouraging. I’m reading more, eating three meals a day (which was never a staple for me), and back to the old pen and paper (which then turns into this bloggidy blogg blog.)
I’m reaching out a little more as well. Not in sense of help me I’m poor….., but in the sense that I am no more the anti-social, social butterfly I used to be. You see, before I was out. Always out. My home was a place of bed for me, that was it. Sure, it was beautiful, expensive furniture, nice photographs, but it was just a roof over my head. I was always working, and when not working, socializing, being out where I truly thought the lights were much brighter. I had lots of friends, different circles, always having a party, but it was ultimately an excuse not to go home to my sad, sad, life. This time I go out and I still very much enjoy it, but I am home too, even if at times those sad moments still creep up. I spend time with my dog, I have more conversations with my neighbors and get this…I even planted a flower. Now, this is coming from a girl whose father bought her a cactus and that even perished in my care. Granted, I forgot about it as soon as I planted it and it died, I’m also pretty sure Barrie pissed on it, but I planted it. Not a substandard choice, my friend, just a very substandard job of keeping the flowering little fucker alive. (RIP- flower).
Being able to look back on some of my many terrible decisions has allowed me to grow, (more so than the flower I planted). I don’t plan on making more awful choices, at least not intentionally. But decisions will be made, for better or for worse, and the better ones will be for the better, and the substandard ones for the better too.