Can't Find My Way Home- Blind Faith
This post has next to nothing to do with being a daddy blogger. Really, I decided to include daddy blogger in the headline and body of the post for the sole purpose of S.E.O. Don't really care much if it actually helps drive more traffic here or not. Don't care whether some people think that mommy bloggers get more respect than daddy bloggers. Don't care if some columnist writes a story that denigrates mommy bloggers as being less important than some think they should be.
I don't care because my self esteem isn't based upon having the most popular blog. I won't cry if I am not asked to be a speaker or shout because Disney doesn't provide me with free trips and Ford doesn't supply me with cars to review. Those things are nice and I won't complain if they come about, but they aren't why I blog.
I blog because of moments like now. Moments where I can scream that some days it feels like every little thing I do is three times harder than it needs to be. Days where I am overloaded with work and deadlines are move up so that I am busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.
That is so last year. Don't ask me why, but 2009 didn't like me. That jackass spent 365 days looking for ways to fuck with me. But it is not 2009 anymore, it is 2010 and I own this year. I will not tolerate nor accept these attempts to sabotage my efforts to make 2010 the year I want.
So it doesn't really matter that I feel like my instrument panel has died and that I am on the verge of crashing into a snow covered mountain in the Andes. Fine, take the damn plane down. I'd prefer to crash on the island. It'd be better for my Hurley to end up there because in the freaking snow I just might have to eat him to survive. And if need be, I will.
Stupid computer issues, stupid Dharma group and stupid people are irritating the hell out of me. And now that I have that out of the way I am going to take my cleansing breath and r
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
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