Bye Bye Thirties

This will be my very last blog post. BOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO! Woe is me! While I'm still in my 30's, that is! ^_^! Hehehehehe! Gotcha!

It's crazy. Today? Today, I'm unusually happy. Not that happiness is wrong. Nooooooh no-no! Or abnormal. Everybody experiences it every now and again. Unless you're my primary school needlework teacher. Then >_< notttttttt so convinced that I shoulda generalized like that. I couldn't tell whether or not she liked me. Or anyone in my class. Or anyone in the school. Heck! I couldn't tell whether she liked. Period.

I can't help but wonder why such angry people become teachers? Is it revenge for an unspeakably dreadful schooling career? Or just plain ol' eenie-meeni-mynee-mo-type decision-making? "Ohhhh well! Okayyyyyyyyyy then, if that's where my finger landed, then my path in life is set. Teacher it is." Meanwhile? Back at the...back at wherever you come from? You kinda can't stand people. That would be like me becoming a nurse or a doctor. I'm not kidding. They'd be out of smelling salts by now. Worldddddwide. "I-iss that blood?!?!" DOOOOOOOF! And painkillers for when I came to. I hit my head on the corner of my doctors table. "They s-stabbed you...fourteen...ti?" DOOOOOOOF! Hit my head again. "Ravaged by a pitbull???????! Ohhhhh %&^$#@ NO!" DO-DOOOOOOOOOOF!!!!!! I think they just left me there that time!

I'm shrugging my shoulders while I blame the parents. You're paying the bill for whatever your child's finger landed on, right? Jusssss establishing rightful accountability. You know what kind of personality they have, right? Uhhhh-huh! You also know that to become a teacher, you need certain social skills. You need to be compassionate and patient and all those nice things, right? And there we go! If you're kid is grumpy and angry? TwenTy four seVennnnn? Be honest. In a ramble responsible typa way.

Say, "Child? I'm so proud of you for being eager to study further so that you can make a comfortable life for yourself. But you know? Grass is green. It loves being green. Don't you love being green. Sorry, you're not grass, are you? A-hem! When it's brown, it's sohhh unhappy that it dies. Plus?!??! Plus! It won't grow on concrete! Huhhhhhh! HuhhhhhhH!??? Clever! (Child looks at you sympathetically). (You notice.) Okay. No more dead grass verbals. Truth is that? We're all not meant to grow on concrete like stubborn weeds. (Sympathy turns to confusion.) (You notice). Look! We? As in your father? (pre-agreed blame shifting). Believe. Very very strongly that we shouldn't pay for you to become a teacher because we would be paying for you to terrorise little people. And that's just not right! We believe that children are our future. Treat them well and....just! Just become a wrestler instead."

And that's it. First you go for the sympathy? Then you lead to confusion! Then?!? Close with blaming their father while still saying, we. By then they're so sympathetically confused? They're possibly asking themselves, "We? How many father's do I actually have?" But what's important is that you have them where you want them because they don't know anymore what it was that their finger landed on. If you listen secretly from behind their closed door? You'll hear, eenie-meeni-mynee-mo again! Except now? It's a choice between wrestling and auditioning for Idols. O_o! Sigh...here comes another "talk".

I'm on such a high. Disclaimer: No weed was inhaled during the writing of that statement! The mind is such an amazing tool. Unless you've just escaped bondage at the claws of a big bear in a dark cave? You may have been into that kinda thing, I dunno. You had to have heard the saying, "It's all in the mind." I'm sitting here, thirty minutes away from turning forty and it honestly is all in the mind. I'm happy. Without fear that I'm going to begin experiencing middle-aged spreading like a melting piece of ice or that I will have to give up this or that. Well, except for cigarettes. Geese got on me about that the other day. He was like, "If you die from lung cancer, I will never forgive you!" That's. That's love. I'm going to make my own image. It will say: "Love is...being threatened with a lifetime grudge for dying!" It sounds as though I'm making fun of it, but I'm dead serious. SHIT! No. Not dead. See? Now I'm being less and less convincing. Cross my heart and hope to die! O_O! You know what? I'm tip-toeing away from this right after I say one thing! I really do like the fact that he threatened me for dying. Ofcourse, if I take it literally? I would miss the fact that he's telling me that he doesn't want to live without me and wants me to make whatever changes I need to make, so that, that doesn't have to happen, sooner than it has to.

Uhm! I'm a comebacker of note!

I gotta say. I woke this morning and made a conscious decision to enjoy my day! Come what may. My good mood shall stay. I didn't mean for all those sentences to rhyme, by the way. The poet in me sometimes feels the need to come out and play. Urgh. One second. I need to have a word with myself.

Alright. Now that I've grounded the poetic piece of me...? I can lift my cup of tea and bid a cheery farewell to my first three, very eventful...at times, very surprising, decades on this earth. And now? Let my life begin!

I-I was just playing living for the last thirty nine years! :-)
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