Sh*t, or Get Off the Pot

Here I am the second week in a row doing an “advice” post. Sorry. It’s “Tip Tuesday” in my blogger Facebook group, and, well, I need some prompting right now to get my butt in gear when it comes to writing. (Never mind that last week’s “Tip Tuesday” was actually written on Thursday. That isn’t the point.)

 

My tip today is inspired by the phrase: “Shit, or get off the pot”. I guess my advice is nothing but a river of shit with the occasional nugget of gold. I don’t usually have this kind of potty humor in my real life. I promise.

 

A bijillion years ago I was watching some awful rom-com movie and the male lead proposed using that very line. Quite understandably, the female lead told him to GTFO.  I don’t remember the title of said movie. For some reason I feel like the end there was a mad dash of a thousand brides running him down….. I don’t suggest watching this movie. Or even why it comes to mind right now…

I digress….

Don’t just give up. Just fucking go for it.

 

My whole life I have held myself back. I took the phrase to heart and “got of the pot” more than I ahem ‘shat’. I’m too afraid of commitment. I’m too afraid of the time it takes to get things done. I am a pathetic waste of a 32 year old woman that has nothing to show but my family. I don’t have a college degree. I don’t have a wonderful hobby that gets me out of the house. I don’t have what I thought I would have at 32.

 

That’s not true. I never really gave my middle aged years a thought. Sure, I’ve only just hit the dreaded MIDDLE AGE. I don’t know if there is a given age that you become middle aged, but certainly, one would assume that any thirty-something would have more to make them tick than I do…. I have fallen into a sticky stereotype of ‘stay-at-home-mom’ that I’m not even sure how I got here.

 

My advice to my younger self would be to fucking finish college. Become a flight attendant. A personal assistant to some celebrity. Write a book. A karaoke superstar. The few months I toyed with the idea of becoming a massage therapist; do it. I don’t mean to say it in the half-hearted placating way. I mean it in the crazed Shia LeBeouf-esque fashion. Honestly, I’m not really picky about which path my younger self wants to go with. Just pick a thing and roll with it.

 

I’m currently job hunting. I am a thirty something woman that has no degree that has not been in the American work-force since 2010. Today was my second interview in this quest for employment. Thursday is my third interview. Each of the places that I have applied for have almost nothing in common. I am not saying that if I had finished college I would not be in the spot I currently am. I would still be job hunting, but at least my search would be more focused. Right? I don’t even know….

 

I guess what has me feeling like I’m middle aged is that I actually have a thought about retirement and how royally fucked I am when I am truly unable to work. Until recently, thinking about retirement just caused me enough discomfort I would beat thoughts of old age and such down with a baseball bat. Not that I even thought about it all that much.

After being in Australia and seeing how they do things over there I will be taking myself to the bank once I have a job to figure out what I can do now to prepare for my antiquity.

 

Alas, I am hoping that this week will yield a job offer.

 

*Featured Image found here!

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2 Comments

  1. Aha! I suddenly remembered there was a klutz post i meant to read and here it is, lol. Sorry I’m late 😉 I totally agree. I should have finished college years ago… starting to plug away at it again, yes… but there has been so many job field changes in my adulthood. I know exactly where you’re coming from

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am forever offering advice to my younger self. The stupid cunt—pardon my English—never takes it and we always wind up exactly where I am now! Why don’t our younger selves just listen? Why don’t they, in my case, put that beer or that female down and just hear what I have to say? I’d really like to sucker punch young me straight in the penis that he thinks too much with! He’d probably get brain damage…

    Like

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