Please press play and enjoy.
No copyright infringement intended. Just appreciation of music and lyrics to set a mood to (Fxxxing) my mood. #bXtchy ;)
So, my life has become this series of uneventful events where I find myself driving my sixteen year old daughter to and fro, a lot of sitting in my car—waiting, listening to A LOT of music; writing the occasional blog posts; and fantasizing about BIGGER things (such as: the looming summer warmth and eating far too many raspberry pie parfaits; getting my hair cut clean off (or into a cute bob, at the very least); and the day that I will EVER, maybe, once again, be able to get so stinking drunk that I have no qualms peeing in public OR qualms about anything, really). That, and just generally day dreaming about the day my life as a chauffeur, who gets paid with the occasional bottle of sparkling water, will cease to exist. Gah.
It's not so bad. It's quiet. Peaceful in the chaos of my current (non)peace-fullness. And. I know someday I will have my life before (teenage) kids back. When I can be (occasionally) stupid. AND. Do (sometimes) stupid things. FUN things. That only cause myself harm AND extreme hangovers. (BUT, I hate hangovers, she whines.) All without EVER thinking about consequence.
(We're still allowed to do these things when we're over 40, right?)
Thing is, all this reflective quiet time has me thinking about sixteen year old me. That girl didn't give a fXXK about anything. It was (UNFORTUNATELY) a short lived phase. I was a shy child. An awkward, shyer than shy, almost teen. And then something happened the Fall after I turned 16. I literally broke out of every confine I had ever placed upon myself and did whatever the fxxk I wanted. I dyed my hair the blackiest of blue black and literally became the un-sweetest thing EVER. And, I thought nothing of what anyone thought of my new found attitude. It was during this time I started feeling like an outsider in my own family. SO, I distanced myself, switched high schools and practically moved into my friend’s house because I was there all the time anyway. So, basically my parents never knew where I was. AND her parents just didn't care. SO, we pretty much did what we wanted. (Which in hindsight wasn’t a whole heck of a lot, other than drunken underage public disorderly behaviour; such as having no qualms peeing in public.) We shared our first drunken, straight up vodka from the bottle, walking around a scuzzy town (neither of us lived in) until the wee hours of the nearly next day, which I paid for dearly. 🤢
It was (sort of) fun (until it wasn't anymore). And I somehow didn't die from the lack of qualms, or get brutally slaughtered from said lack of not giving a fXXk.
There was a point (and I remember the moment well) in which I realized I was making poor life choices, and needed change. SO, I went back to my regular high school, stayed at my own house most of the time, got new friends and added some grape kool-aid to that vodka. Given, I still did stupid teenage things. Only, I felt safer and happier. And, it was fun. Some of the best days of my life.
In hindsight, I might understand why my Mother worried about my shutting her out.
I began to question myself. My very existence. And lost that edgy edge. I think a fXXKer of a boy had something to do with it. Because it is inevitable that the heart wants what the heart wants BUT sometimes can't have it, and I let those walls down and it spiralled into this existence of never feeling I was good enough. And. It goes without saying. If I ever see him again I will punch him. And believe me, letting go, no regrets, he deserves it. Fxxxing literally!
Thing is, thirty years (and some difficult times and choices) later, that girl is starting to peek her attitude ridden head out of the grave I buried her in all those years ago AND I like it. It's funny how experience changes us or brings us back, as the case may be.
BUT. I still have a long way to go AND I am a mother so I have to be sweet. Sometimes.
And this post isn’t meant to be just about me. I’m writing it, and thinking about my daughter and her friends. Now all turning 17. And how they should feel fxxxing empowered to be who they want to be! That decision, good or bad, don’t define. That they, those decisions, are just moments. In time. Defining or not. I let one (maybe two) “defining” moments define THIRTY years of my life, and that’s just NOT XXXXing acceptable. I should seriously do a TED Talk for teenage girls on music, surviving puberty, inconsiderate boys, heartache, avoiding eating disorders, harming one's ego (in general), AND embracing your fxxk you attitude. I might (even) learn something myself.
True (fxxking) story. Grrr.
P.S. I might even talk about Morrissey.
See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.
Not pictured: the moment that bubble ended up stuck in my hair. ;)
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