This is a Disclaimer.
I took a year away from blogging for personal reasons. There were legal matters with which to contend; moving from a ridiculously tiny apartment to a super-nice house; family drama; and worst of all, the misplacement of an entire box of books containing my entire Harry Potter series.
A lot of people didn't like 2016, and with all the global upheaval and celebrity deaths I can… Click To Tweet. I guess a lot of people suffered personal tragedies as well. 2016 wasn’t all bad for my family, although there was a lot of bullshittery, too. I didn’t hate 2016 altogether (sorry, bandwagon, for not jumping on you), but I’m not unhappy to see it slink out of the room.
Let’s talk about rants!
Another reason I took some time away from writing here is due to an existential crisis: What even am I doing with my blog? I started this project as a way to get my thoughts out of my head, to figure out how I really feel about life, to crack my own shit up, and to maybe get other people to laugh, too. I won’t deny seeking validation in the form of YES I FEEL THAT WAY TOO from some mystical magical fan base, but a lack thereof wasn’t gonna completely destroy my soul.
Since the inception of TW4R, I have made a lot of friends. I’ve also gone to therapy and found the right combination of prescription medication to moderate my brain juices. I learned a lot about myself; my wants and needs; my purpose in life; my weaknesses and flaws and limitations; my wonky sense of humor; my strengths.
One might go so far as to say I finally got my collective shit together. I’m all growed up now! Whee!
Now when I rant, it’s not to get things off my mind. It’s not to dig deep and all that hippy-dippy hooey. It’s not because I’m angry and looking for healthy ways to cope. It’s not because I’m Depressed and struggling to stay mentally healthy.
When I rant now, it’s because I am actually pretty fucking hilarious. I know this because people laugh at my jokes, even (and in spite of themselves) when what I have to say is crass, depraved, inappropriate, socially unacceptable, or downright unholy. My posts might not always, or even typically, reflect this, but I am a comedian in my own rights.
I struggled to start blogging again. My rants and/or tongue-in-cheek observances have come back to bite me in the ass on more than one occasion. They have been taken out of context and used against me. They have been pointed out as reasons I suck as a human, as a friend, as a parent, as a wife, as a citizen of Planet Earth, as an astronaut, as a Transformer. I mean, the ways I in which I apparently suck are beyond believable and border on laughable in and of themselves.
But here’s the thing, you guys.
Over the last year I’ve done everything “right” and gained no friends or new-found respect. I’m still considered in some quarters to be a pole-dancing crackhead. And the poopheads on the wrong side of Context-gate still say, “Kill yourself” or “Get raped” or “Make me a sandwich, bitch.” Trump still got voted in. Russia still wants to bomb us and the world is still a scary place to live.
I’m no more respected now, and America is no more respected worldwide, for my having avoided this here bloggy-blog.
So I’m coming home.
I’m going to rant here in this blog. But you (“collective” you – readers, lawyers, judges, magistrates, court-appointed legal people, family, friends, enemies, Russia) should understand that this blog is only one side of me. This isn’t all of who I am. You need to understand the difference between a PERSON versus a public PERSONA. A character versus a caricature. A blogger versus a human.
I get mad, but I’m not, like, MAD – in either sense of the word.
I can act crazy but I’m not mentally insane.
I can be upset about things but I don’t just live to be unhappy. Shit, man. Have you seen my Happiness Project posts?
I use bad language, but I’m not a bad person. If I go to hell after I die, it’s not going to be due to F-bombs, I assure you. I read that somewhere in the Bible.
I dance, but not well, and never around poles. When I strip, it’s not for money. It’s to change into pajamas, get into bed and go to sleep. I take some solid naps, my friend.
I take drugs, but they are the legal prescription kind, not the kind that is crack or heroin or other bad scary illegal things. I’m scared of needles and things that go up your nose and breaking the law.
I yell at inanimate objects, but not at people, unless it’s for comedy because let’s face it, if you saw me in public screaming WHY WON’T YOU LOVE FROZEN WITH ME at my sister you would probably lose your shit.
(((Not gonna lie: I’ve also been known to shout NONE SHALL PASS in the middle of the grocery store when there are like ten carts blocking an aisle. You know that shit be cray.)))
(((Okay, one more: I yelled SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY at a cashier once when, after her card reader started beeping obnoxiously, she said I had to use the chip thing instead of the swipe thing.)))
So here’s what you need to know (this is the part where I look at my husband and ask, “What was my point again?”):
This blog is for entertainment purposes only. It should not be misconstrued as an actual representation of me, my values, or my life. Seriously. I mean it. For realz.