Let's make this a 2-part first post.

Hi Internets!

Since this is my first ever post, EVER, I figured you'd like to get to know me... So here it goes!

I always thought I would be the perfect everything…perfect mom, perfect wife, perfect cook, perfect party thrower, perfect sister, perfect daughter, perfect, perfect, perfect… It never occurred to me that I would actually need help at playing mommy, or need practice to be “sexy-wifey” or have to give up on feeding people properly altogether! For some reason, it never occurred to me, that my less-then-perfect-childhood would be an obstacle of any kind. How could it be? It should actually guide me and enable me to obtain my coveted title. Goodness, was I ever wrong.

Somewhere down the line though, and that certainly didn’t help, I got lazy. Or maybe I got distracted, or careless, or…I don’t know. Somehow, the years passed and I had done nothing in particular, achieved absolutely nothing noteworthy, and given up on my artistic side for no other reason then that I got mad at my pen one day.
School was of no interest, working was ok, going out and drinking was fun but even that seemed to grow old real quick. I got in the bad habit of always being attached, often to the wrong guy, and for too long. I guess I was just spoiled rotten…

I am really not sure how that could’ve happened, though. Growing up, we were borderline poor, or at least, never had much money left over for my desires or me. I recall stealing 40 bucks from my dad’s wallet to buy panties… he never noticed. But in the family domain, I didn’t really have it bad. My brother? That’s another story.
So how did I get spoiled? I have no clue. I never got everything I wanted. EVER. I couldn’t talk back to my parents unless I enjoyed being smacked upside the head. I did it once. Lost a tooth. Or maybe I’m not spoiled; maybe I just don’t care for anything. But the thought of being so careless that I would have no ambition, that I would have no drive for anything other then napping, and even that’s a fetch… It’s just that I was always told how special I was, how smart I was, how much potential I had… No one ever cared to check if I had drive. So all that potential, these smarts, that specialness… all gone… to waste.

Add to that the fact that I have no particular talent and my story becomes a true tearjerker. But then again, I guess not having any talent just makes me average. And being average seems like a crime to me. Why? I’m not exactly sure. Maybe because average means I’m like most people, and I really don’t want to be like most. Maybe because I feel that deep down, I have a purpose, I just can’t figure out what the hell it is. Maybe also because I feel like I’m wasting away, and that’s got to be a sign for something. I mean, if I really where so useless and meaningless and disposable, would I actually be aware of it? Shit, I hope not. That would really suck balls, wouldn’t it? So. Am I average or am special? What does that mean anyway? I’m just being existential right now, so enough of that. That particular question gives me a headache because I can never find the proper answer for me. So let’s move on, shall we?

In my dreams –illusions, utopia, follies- of perfection, I have none of those questions. They are useless to me. I’m always perfectly happy, dinner is always pretty and delicious, the house is always clean, my nails are always manicured (and pedicured), my J is the best, my daughter is always polite and nice, I’m always cool, calm and collected, and bla bla bleh…

In real life, it’s a tad messier. I’ll make it a point by point of the issues mentioned above.
(to be continued)