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this is the only post... (task 10, by the way)
...you ain't gonna get any pictures in.
too difficult to illustrate I s'pose.
There isn't one moment I'm ashamed of ... just twenty or so years. Due to all the time and promise I wasted. I was a bloody clever kid. And I blew it. For twenty years I did sod all. Homework was done in the car on the way to school. Projects done the night before. Fell into most things. Got by. Didn't even have the excuse of liking to drink and do drugs all the time... I did them, but I didn't get overly taken over by them. I did art school and did fuck all, didn't pay attention. Assumed I'd be a huge success when I left. Wasn't. Did other stuff. Stopped drawing. Stopped being funny. Too much effort really. Even got pregnant by accident. Basically, I did nothing in the twenty odd years from being a little kid to being a mother (at 29). ... apart from let it happen. What a damned waste. I worked hard when it was shoved in my face... but didn't go home at the end of the day and write/illustrate the great american (obviously NOT the great american, but you get what I'm at) novel... when bus drivers and mothers of seventeen under-fives were getting on, going home after a hard day's work and writing bestsellers, running companies. And then there's me. Got told I had a very high IQ at five years old... never tried hard again. Expected to be discovered (doing what, I have no idea) and made a star/bestseller/top mathematician. Pathetic. Felt like a failure because I hadn't been a huge success at 21 like I thought I was going to.
Thankfully, dropping myself in Portugal has rather saved me from myself and I have found the joy of working hard.... for I am rather stuck in the middle of nowhere with very few friends and without working/painting/drawing/writing/blogging I think I would go seriously over the side of a cliff, as being a housebound wifey mothery type thing doesn't float my boat... not one little bit... sinks it in fact... to the bottom of a very deep lake.
There are TWO things, though, that I am inordinately proud of... my two little girls.
I made them. And although I almost throttled them half an hour ago they are truly amazing and I truly love them.
And I made them.
Did I say that it was ME that made them? that raises them? feeds them? bathes them? cleans their stinky bums? and still they are completely adorable little poppets. (and I made them).
That is all.
And if anyone complains about my grammar... they can go and suck on a lynne truss.
too difficult to illustrate I s'pose.
There isn't one moment I'm ashamed of ... just twenty or so years. Due to all the time and promise I wasted. I was a bloody clever kid. And I blew it. For twenty years I did sod all. Homework was done in the car on the way to school. Projects done the night before. Fell into most things. Got by. Didn't even have the excuse of liking to drink and do drugs all the time... I did them, but I didn't get overly taken over by them. I did art school and did fuck all, didn't pay attention. Assumed I'd be a huge success when I left. Wasn't. Did other stuff. Stopped drawing. Stopped being funny. Too much effort really. Even got pregnant by accident. Basically, I did nothing in the twenty odd years from being a little kid to being a mother (at 29). ... apart from let it happen. What a damned waste. I worked hard when it was shoved in my face... but didn't go home at the end of the day and write/illustrate the great american (obviously NOT the great american, but you get what I'm at) novel... when bus drivers and mothers of seventeen under-fives were getting on, going home after a hard day's work and writing bestsellers, running companies. And then there's me. Got told I had a very high IQ at five years old... never tried hard again. Expected to be discovered (doing what, I have no idea) and made a star/bestseller/top mathematician. Pathetic. Felt like a failure because I hadn't been a huge success at 21 like I thought I was going to.
Thankfully, dropping myself in Portugal has rather saved me from myself and I have found the joy of working hard.... for I am rather stuck in the middle of nowhere with very few friends and without working/painting/drawing/writing/blogging I think I would go seriously over the side of a cliff, as being a housebound wifey mothery type thing doesn't float my boat... not one little bit... sinks it in fact... to the bottom of a very deep lake.
There are TWO things, though, that I am inordinately proud of... my two little girls.
I made them. And although I almost throttled them half an hour ago they are truly amazing and I truly love them.
And I made them.
Did I say that it was ME that made them? that raises them? feeds them? bathes them? cleans their stinky bums? and still they are completely adorable little poppets. (and I made them).
That is all.
And if anyone complains about my grammar... they can go and suck on a lynne truss.
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