No blog yesterday – yeah, I’m supersure you noticed. DON’T TASE ME, BRO, I’m only human. Or am I??? No blog was the result of working all day and into the wee hours (look at those hours! they so SMALL!!) on job apps, paperwork, and tests. All kiiiinds of not-exactly-Turkish-delight. Then, I woke up about 3 hours later (hence the delirium), smooched today on the cheek, and proceeded to grab it by the huevos. Four job interviews, so much more paperwork, and more tests. SORRY, BLOG. In the life game of rock paper scissors, getting a job trumps blog.
After all the “round 1” testing and paperwork was done, I was informed that I’m really good at a myriad of totally random-yet-marketable things! Thank goodness… it’s bad enough to feel useless as an unemployed person, but it’s a doubly depressing setback to find out via standardized tests that you’re also a moron. (Hey, it’s happened before; there’s a reason I never pursued a degree in astrophysics. [<– that is NOT a joke. I really wanted to! Haven’t you read Contact??? If not, DO IT!]) High “hireability aptitude numbers” notwithstanding, I know I won’t get hired on scores alone. Tomorrow’s to-do list: MY FACE. Ha. Yeah right. I’ll probably just keep… I don’t know, doing whatever it is that people like me do that have and will never be professional “faces.” LIKE BLOGGING. Or practicing my mad grammar skillz (as they may actually be what pay my billz). Or scoping for dudes. LIKE THIS CHICK!
Spell check yourself before you wreck yourself??? THIS LADY HAS WRITTEN THE SONG THAT SINGS (or raps) MY TRUTH!!! Do I live my life spelling/grammar-error-free? Um, DUH NO. SPESHLEE not here on el blogo. But in life – and definitely in a JOB – I do my best. It’s like respecting mama. When she isn’t looking, maybe you do things she’d poo-poo. But when you’re in the house where mama raised you (aka adulthood), you show some fuckin’ RESPECT. The mama, pops, or village that raised you worked their ass off to fund your schools and pay your teachers. The least you can do is ACT LIKE YOU KNOW the difference between there/their/they’re. Don’t be an ingrate.
I’m deeply indebted to my parents and the massive village that raised me for all the lessons I’ve learned (and continue to learn). And I hope to one day be able to deeply embed the knowledge – not a single lesson, but the know-it-in-yer-bonez knowledge – that I was fortunate enough to receive. Some people think that this means I’d make a good mom. AU CONTRAIRE, MON HOMESKILLIT. Because, see, here’s the thing: in my opinion, being a good parent has NOTHING to do with how much you like kids or want to see them grow up to be exemplary grown chicklets. It’s much more about being good at PARENTING. Monkey’s Mo’ and I were flappin’ our yappers about parenting this weekend (cuz das how you DO when you hang out with people with kids). I said something like “GAHDAYUM, gurrrrl! You done had yerself the CUTEST BABY EVARRRR. and to boot, HE’S SO GOOD!!! Does it ever make you just want to baby seal club bad babies you see in the stores and such cuz they aren’t as good as Monkey?” She said “nah. It makes me want to club the parent, though. Most bad babies are bad cuz their parents suck.” Again, truthbombs over Baghdad were dropped, right there in that kitchen. And the people rejoiced. And it was good.
Now. Are there exceptions? DUH. NOTHING IS BLACK AND WHITE when it comes to things like nature/nurture and blanket statements regarding “all kids.” But. Monkey Mo’ helped me put into efficient words why I so often disagree with those who said I’d be a “good mom”: I don’t think I’d be naturally good at parenting. And presently, I have no interest whatsoever in overcoming this personal opinion. Would the kid grow up to be a dance machine with pretty much really awesome taste in most things that are worthy of excellent palate development? Prolly. That’s not parenting. That’s fairy godmothering. And that’s all that holds interest for me.
(ZOMGGGG GLITTER AND OTHER PEOPLE’S DWARFS FOR EVARRRR!)
SO. For all you babycrazy friends out there who see me having a grand ol’ giggly baby time with your kids, it’s cuz I love kids when they aren’t being bad. When they are bad, I don’t see it as a chance to rise to the challenge – I see it as the perfect time to give the kid back to you.
But then, Monkey Mo’ said “even though I lucked out with such a good baby, I know that I’m gonna do SOMETHING to screw him up. Everyone will.” BNNNGGGGG. Gong of life smacked me in the face: things NOT on my short- or long-term to-do list include screwing people up. Especially tiny baby people. They are DELICATE those ones!!! I think I’ll just stick to letting my friends screw up their own kids and getting myself a job that I will, undoubtedly at some isolated moment, screw up, but will otherwise love to work and crush with awesometude.
Oh, and in case anyone was curious, I basically type at the speed of light. JUST PUTTING THAT OUT THERE.
Now stop reading this blog already and go do something helpful for Japan!!!