Here's me being a lame-ass and still using photos from last year at this time.
I've been in a weird mood lately. It's the kind of space I used to get into a lot when I was younger. I called it "restless" back then, but now I think it's just my ADD flaring-up. I have a hard time sitting still and I'm continually tempted to throw a match on the kerosene soaked rags of any unstable situation in my life. (and with me, that means most of them) I have to try extra special hard to tick-a-lock at work, for fear that I'll start saying what I really think and get myself in a mess of trouble.
This was the same mood that made me think it was a great idea to quit my job at nineteen, and leave all my friends in Iowa. I took a bag full of caffeine pills a friend of mine ordered out of the back of a punk rock magazine for me, some mixed tapes full of Bauhaus, Flipper, and really obscure Velvet Underground songs, and flew to California where I knew absolutely no one.
At least I've become a little smarter about it all - or maybe I just have kids and know I can't fuck things up for me and them. Now, I try to smash all that restlessness into a small, hard ball in my stomach and hope it doesn't start to grow back. I also spend all that energy creating really inappropriate scenarios in my head. It's so much safer. The big problem is trying to remember to keep my brain filter tightly in place, so I don't voice the bizarre shit that is amusing me so much in my tiny, wrinkled brain. Unfortunately for my girls, I'm not quite as careful in the privacy of my own home, where I am comfortable letting my weird out. By now they're used to it, and try to nip it in the bud.
Coadster: So, mom. I wanted to talk to you about dancing at my party on Saturday.
Me: Are you afraid I'm going to dance there? Oh my god. Wouldn't it be funny if I got really drunk, and started 80's dancing, totally off-beat to whatever music we had on? Then lurched off the dance floor and started slurring and hitting on all your male friends...?
Coadster: Mom. Mom! Stop. I was just trying to say that some of the kids might be dancing...You know, kind of close.
Me: Oh, like bumping and grinding?
Coadster: Yeah. Whatever. It's just how we dance now.
Me: I know that. I was in high school once too. I'll just tell you, that I'll put a stop to the bumping and the grinding, the minute I see any parts exposed.
Coadster: Okay. I think we're done now.