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Of Old Adage and Haystacks…

I haven’t posted in awhile.

Not because I’ve been busy.

*shifty eyes*

Okay, I’ve been busy.

I’ve been SO busy, in fact, that I feel like my world went ass-over-teakettle and I came up wondering #WTF just happened?!

(and by #wtf just happened?!, I mean I shoulda taken the blue pill)

I tell you what happened.  I got myself a goddamn goal to take over the world, some cosmic flutter-bye got wind of said plan and thought to itself that it heard the word, “universe” and thus found it apt to throw the entire intergalactic busy-ship of chaos….right at my goddamn head.

True story.

Added to this whirlwind of cosmic commotion was the most inopportune event of having a quasi-breakdown right damn smack in the middle of what I just discovered to be the absolute best time of my freakin’ life.

“What the h-e-double toothpicks happened?!”

I’ll tell you what happened.

I tripped over someone else’s perception and landed in a pile of dung.

So, I did what anyone with half a right mind (cuz it doesn’t take full-bodied mental ability to really understand what it is that you want for yourself) would do…I noticed that something stunk, picked myself up, and cleansed my reality of all-that-sucks-bollocks.

[enter the proverbial “Facebook purge”, stage left]

You see, I don’t follow the old adage of, “family first.”  In fact, I don’t follow the old adage of “family first,” because I know and understand that *I* am, indeed, first.

[enter collective, audible *gasp*, stage right]

It took me YEARS to understand the difference.

I’m tired of reading how people are always sacrificing, sacrificing, sacrificing…..having psychotic mo-fo breakdowns…..contributing to the instability of their already over-processed, chronically afflicted bodies…all in the name of “old adage.”

Lemme tell it to you straight.

If I am not on my game (and by game, I mean anything that has ANYthing to do with the made-for-tv-movie kind of life I live)…NO ONE…is at their game.

If I sacrifice before my own needs are met, I will be effort-ing in the negative.  People pick up on that.  No one is happy.  Everyone develops the grouchies.  I hate those little buggers.  LOATHE.

This year, I chose to study a virtue of “Self-discipline.”  I have discovered over this half-year that I lack the capacity to effect it from within.  I can make a goal, yes.  I can attain said goal, yes.  But for things OUTside of my physical environment….education, for example.  Achieving recognition of a virtuous variety from my community, for example.

Can I take the time for myself that I need in order to regularly refresh and regroup my seriously over-taxed, over-processed mind?


Maybe not.  And I must.  YOU must.  ??? How ???

Well, I have already started my “Healing Through Art.”  That’s MY time…an outlet…an opportunity for my creative junkie to get it’s fix.

How else?

[enter crickets chirp, stage center]

Dunno.  *hangs head*

THAT is my next goal…I’ve got six months left to “study”….

I did, however, try something new at my most recent excursion to a gathering…


Yes.  Chronic Badass went all Rambo on a fucking haystack with a bow and arrow.

How’d I do?  Pretty fly, actually.  But what was MOST frabjous was the feeling….that oozing sensation of empowerment… of awesomeness… of being able to do ANYTHING….

This is how I feel I looked:







This is how I really look:

Pretty badass.

I knew about bracers.

I knew I wanted that “bow kiss.”

I had NO freakin’ clue that NSAID’s would make the regular bruising oh-so-very horrendous.


Lesson: learned.


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