Life Is Precious, So I’m Going to Overwork Myself

It’s raining again. I want to tell Mother Nature to calm her titties with this precipitation crap up here. We don’t need anymore up here in northern Illinois. Send it somewhere where they can legitimately use it. There are plenty of places that desperately need our rain. Well, I’m sure the farmers are happy since we had a fairly unsnowy winter.

First paragraph and I can say I got my first made-up word in. Excellent. I am on a roll.

Today, I went to work out to clear my head. I think it’s finally hitting me that there’s a chance that my 2nd cousin, the relative closest in age to me, could die. It scares the fucking shit out of me, to be honest. Why is it that death knocking on the door of a 30-year-old wakes your ass up?

The thing is… I can tell already that I am trying to run full speed at everything because “life is precious” and all that bull shit. I am trying to make lots of changes at once instead of doing small steps and building myself up. I am the kind of person Billy Joel sings about in “Vienna.” He knows the subject is burning himself or herself out and trying to remind him or her that she doesn’t need to make everything happen at once.

I’m realizing I’m getting older, and the biological clock is ticking at an alarming pace. Not that that justifies my crazy, but it explains it. Death and the biological clock are extremely powerful motivators for getting shit accomplished.

I remember this point where my “friend” used to hold up all the baby clothes he liked and how his future kid was going to wear that. Being the faithful puppy dog I was, I would smile and agree. Meanwhile, under the surface, I kept hoping that one day, I was going to be the woman to give him that child. Deep down, though, I think I knew that was never going to be me, but it was nice to play into that fantasy just for a moment. His loss, because my babies are going to be totally adorable little geniuses when they finally show up on this planet.

I think I’ve hit that sort of “baby crazy threshold,” where I look at men and wonder what my babies with them would look like. I mean, I guess it’s fortunate that I’m not crazy enough to chase them down the street, begging them to impregnate me.  In fact, let’s hope I never hit a low where you have to read about a crazy Illinois woman running down the streets, begging men to knock her up.

If you do ever see an article like that, though, you can say, “Hey, I used to read her blog! I always wondered what happened to her.”

Is that a part of being in your 30’s? It’s sort of annoying, and makes me hate that whole “biology” part of being a human. Yes, I know you’re vacant, uterus. Yes, I know I’m in my 30’s and “healthy babies” become less and less likely as that 30-something number increases. Please stop making me feel guilty about it.

I am saving my draft because the power keeps flickering. We have a lot of rain and the wind has been picking up, which makes me think a power outage is more than possible.

Well, that wasn’t the way I was expecting this entry to go, but I think I am glad I got it out there. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if holding back all this crap was what made me a mess in the first place. It’s probably hard to tell right now, but I know I should keep going. So that’s exactly what I intend to do.

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