No more teetering.
No more tottering.
Just a perfectly paralleled plank.
And then some jack walks over and plops down on one side of your now zen-like piece of playground equipment and sends you flailing to the ground. And you want to scream for the duty teacher (who, as a side note is no longer called a duty teacher because, let's face it, "duty" always means "doodie" when it comes out of the mouth of a 3rd-grader) and have her punish the bully who messed with your balance, but you realize you can't because it's your own dumb fault you were ever in that situation to begin with.
Well that's why I haven't blogged in eons. Because this blog is that snotty-faced kid who would have plopped down on my delicately balanced life and sent me hurling towards chaos. Or something like that.
Bottom line: something had to give. And this here blog was it.
But I am a writer. Not a consistent one, rarely a decent one, and certainly not one of substance. But a writer nonetheless. And I missed writing. About my trainwreckofalife and my feelings and all the nonsense in between.
And I've missed you. My readers. All two of you. And your reaction/support/advice about said train wreck. It's nice to have people lie to you and say your narcissistic, overbearing, scatterbrained life is normal. And pretend to relate to it. That's what friends are for after all. They help you pick the slivers out when you've crashed and burned for the umpteenth time (perhaps that's why they don't allow wooden teeter-totters on playgrounds anymore, but I digress).
Because here's what I know now (because I've apparently grown all wise in the eight months since I've frequented this joint). Sometimes it doesn't take a schoolyard meanie to knock you from your perfectly planned perch.
Sometimes you just fall.
And it's no ones fault.
And it's not because you're juggling too many balls (because if you find me someone who can juggle while simultaneously keeping both ends of that totter off the ground, well, I'd probably hate her cause she'd no doubt be wearing something other than yoga pants and have showered sometime in the last 48 hours). And it's not because you aren't capable of achieving stability.
It's simply because everyone stumbles. Everyone.
The smart ones dust themselves off, climb up on the other end of that teeter-totter and find someone to balance them out on the other side. A yin to their yang.
Even though I deserted you, will you be my yang?
