forcing myself to write again... how sad...
so - the other day while watching television, i almost threw-up. not out of the blue or anything - it was a direct result of a commercial i saw. sexyobamashirts.com... nothing says classy like rhinestones on your tits... unless you're supporting your favourite new reason for voting. i'm not sure why i even care so much... i mean, i'm canadian. i realize american politics has a huge impact on our economy and lives, but honestly, i didn't even vote in our election (i know - it's terrible. i should have voted if only for the opportunity to actually have a reason to complain about our government, but c'mon... with our archaic and asinine "selection" process, what's the fucking point? one vote doesn't count a lick in canada, and we all know it...)! i guess one of the factors is i have an american free-to-air satellite dish and watch american television all the time... the only time i ever see the ctv symbol is when i have to download episodes of lost. honestly, i miss it, but free tv is too much to pass up. one day, i'll get another dish so i can watch the new pl or whatever it is now, but until then, i'll slowly keep absorbing american media the way the states are trying to absorb canada...
anyways - back on topic... this commercial disgusted me! that, along with the fact it was on mtv. sure, mtv should be teaching empowerment and that it's cool to vote - ask the plethora of stards (that's what i've taken to calling them...) who attend all those freakin' million-dollar galas to endorse their favourite candidates... really? what does a bedazzled shirt have to do with an election? i may be tarred and feathered for saying this, but was obama really the one for the job? without getting all metaphorical (well, technically all simile-like), i think he's a lot like these t-shirts - flashy, trendy and distracting. it's not like i'm a mccain supporter either - personally, i think he's a little old and maybe a titch crazy. even my dad, who probably shed a tear when heston died, didn't like him. he said he was "baby killer" due to his involvement in the vietnam war... it's weird when our parents surprise us... but at the same time, he felt the same way i did about obama - is he really experienced enough to clean up someone else's mess? especially one as big as the one that was left for him? i know everyone wants change, but do they really expect a big enough change to warrant skanky t-shirts? who knows...
on a different note - i recently heard some disturbing news about a couple i know. this news could be potentially devastating to their relationship if it's true. so, should i tell them what i heard? that question remains to be answered because, as we all know, not everyone is rational. even if what i heard isn't true, it could still possibly end the relationship. but... if i was one of the people involved, i would at least w2ant to know what was being said about me - wouldn't i? tough questions... should i tell them? would you want to know? would you shoot the messenger? is it worth being a messenger?
the politics of everyday life are so much more complex than so-called "real" politics... i wonder if there's a t-shirt for this...

i wish someone could tell me when writing became a chore for me. i know it's something that, if i want to continue doing, and if i want to get better at, i'll have to do it more. i need to practice. it used to be so easy - i wanted to write constantly. i would write on napkins, receipts, nearly anything i could leave legible scratches on... now i have to set aside time, and it feels like i have to force myself. can anyone ever really be good at anything they have to make themselves do? i hope so... i used to be good...
anyways, taking the advice of a dear friends who's also been suffering a slight blockage (or was the last time i asked...), i've decided to write like a seinfeld episode - i'm going to write about, well, nothing (hopefully a bit more entertaining, but we'll see). it's pretty much all i've got anymore. all of the angst i used to hold has pretty much left along with the size ones and short shirts of my youth. oh well...
my days are never really eventful anymore - i get excited with small things like when someone stops by or when i can browse ebay. i can't complain, though - i know others are far worse off than i am.
my son is swinging in his ocean wonder's swing, and i'm listening to sirius coffee house instead of the typical afternoon drivel that's on tv. a song by some guy named ray lamontagne is on. he sounds like a cross between jamie walters (you know? that guy from 90210 who hit donna?) and frankie valli. not bad. this channel is normally quite interesting - a massive mix of often acceptable songs. but when something like edie brickell and the new bohemians comes on (i'm sure if you google them you'll find their only song that made it anywhere.. and probably feel slightly nauseated like i do right now..._), i'm always forced to change it. normally to faction - hip-hop, punk and rock. and i always catch the last chord of a song i would have much rather been listening to. today is no exception - the gaslight anthem - the '59 sound. even though it IS satellite radio, it feels strange to actually admit i like music that gets airplay. i never noticed how much of a musical elitist i used to be - i mean, maybe the reason some songs get airplay is because they're actually good... who knew, eh? and along comes "thrash unreal"... other than the fact she's a junkie (well, and not married and a few other things...), i get this song more than ever now... how do you let go of something that was never tangible in the first place? i look at all these young kids running around with their pink and blue hair and wonder if their parents paid for the salon appointment and wonder if they got their shirts from hot topic or h&m... i feel so old and jaded now - things were harder when i was young. i remember dying my hair with kool-aid and having to dig through thrift stores for my clothes. what are kids these days relating to? that's what it was all about - i was different because it was hard. now they all think they're individuals, but honestly, i couldn't pick my own nephew out of line-up now... tight jeans, long bangs, "vintage" concert shirts. why not just buy a uniform? and do bands like rise against realize what their anthems are fueling now? fuck... i hope not...
how did i get so jaded?
this was an incredibly pointless rant... i think i should kill it now...

it's been four months now. i'm a mother... there is no possible way i ever could have imagined how much things would change - how priorities would shift, how friendships would begin to fail, and how feelings would begin to falter. believe me - things have changed...
it's also been almost a year since i've drank or smoked. i kind of feel like a recovering addict - like i have a cross to bear and a badge to prove it. it's a strange combination of pride and loss. by that i mean i think i miss drinking and smoking - or possibly, i just miss the socialization that comes along with them - but i'm proud i no longer drag those crutches. it's nice to not have to go outside in the rain or cold to placate my nicotine addiction. at the same time though, there's nothing like sitting under a tree watching the breeze carry your exhaled smoke off...
on the other hand, i wouldn't give what i have now up for any vice in the world.
fuck! i can't write anymore!
i'm still a contradiction.
i am a proud mother - pride is so close to competition. i'm amazed and scared by the carnal feelings of pride that swell inside of me every time i realize joey has completed a "milestone" before another child his age or when he outgrows something. it means he's progressing, and i like to think i had something to do with it. i am so protective over him. i feel connected to the mother lions i watch on national geographic when they see their cubs rip apart a kill for the first time.
motherhood is scary. it's very easy to let feelings of isolation sink in. i tell joe daily i need to get out - that he needs to develop confidence in himself so he can watch joey so i can get away for a bit. i am with him 24-hours a day - seriously. i sleep with him curled up beside me. i can feel every one of his breaths, and when he stirs, i wake instantly. motherhood seems primal to me - i can imagine cave women carrying their babies close to their breasts and shielding them from the wind with their strong arms... i imagine her with my face...
regardless, it's nearly impossible for me to leave him. i have replaced cigarettes and beer with my son.
leesha thinks i use him as an excuse. an excuse for what, i'm not sure. an excuse for the fact that i have problems being myself without clouding my personality with intoxicants? i'm not sure.
sara thinks it's a control thing. to elaborate a bit on her theory, everything i wanted as a mother and envisioned before he was born has not come to fruition. joey was going to be on a schedule i created. we were going to be a parent-led family. he was going to sleep in a crib, and i was going to continue to read books and not panic when he coughs. none of that has happened. my world revolves around him, and honestly, that scares me the most. my world has never revolved around anyone except me. previously, i was one of the most egotistical, selfish people i knew. now, my biggest fear is not being good enough for a three-month old.
i've realized recently how opinionated i really am - how condescending i seem sometimes. i look at other mothers and critique them in my head. i know i shouldn't be as i've only been doing this for three months, but i do. maybe that scares me a bit - i think they may be able to feel my scorn, but most of them wouldn't care. see? there i go again...
so whether or not joe feels competent enough to stay home with him, i think i would feel like i'm letting joey down by leaving him. another theory i've deduced it that i'm slowly losing what's left of my identity. for nine months, i felt like i was "the pregnant one". now, i'm the "mom". this is still something that, no matter how much i love my son, is still had for me to grasp. i am a mother. i am not the skinny, drunk hot chick anymore. i'm not the smart, biting, cynical pessimist anymore. i am a mother. i want a minivan because it's practical.
there are still things i want - i still want to sing in a band - i miss singing. i still want to write a novel (or at least a competent blog entry). these things, though, feel unattainable. how can i be a mom in a band? i can't even be away from him!
i hope it's not postpartum. that sounds like a bad word - especially to me. i've had enough mental-instability issues in the past - i don't want one hanging around when i'm changing diapers.
joe is off again - hunting. he doesn't go out half as much as he used to, but it's still hard. i like having people around me - grown-up people. i feel like i'm losing myself sometimes, but when i look at him, it's worth it. i would give up every ounce of my personality just to have him smile at me once.
i am a mother...