Dig Your Chili

Do you ever wish you could turn back time (in a Cher kinda way of course) - and impart all of your hard gained wisdom to your younger self? Well you can't. But I have decided to play the "what if" game and talk to 20 year old Marg. Enjoy or cringe or both. Dear Twenty Year Old Marg, You are a fucking idiot. Put down that slice of pizza and start working out. Your 40 year old atrophied muscles will appreciate that. You feel that you have the whole world ahead of you - you don't. Don't waste your time with college. It sounds really great now - but trust me you will keep going and going and going to get degrees that you will not use and bring zero sense of accomplishment. Go to cosmetology school - become a hairdresser.  Or go become a nurse - its what you will want to do. And know that you will have the same hairstyle for the next 20 years - but its ok because it still looks pretty cool. And I apologize for the fucking idiot comment - 40 year old Marg is kin...

I have an assignment due tomorrow. Not a work assignment or a school assignment but a self growth and discovery project. So I am totally screwed. I have been tasked with physically writing down 10 things I like about myself that don't involve physical appearance. I have 3.  Although if I list procrastination I now have 4 things. And the fact that I don't punch babies or kittens could potentially be 5 - and 6 if I separate them into two items! For a person with self esteem just below toilet level - it has been brutal trying to think of things that I kinda don't hate about myself. (And yes I equate "Kinda don't hate" with like - it happens) I've also been awake for a lot of hours. Like way too many hours. I don't think hallucinating frogs counts as an item for my list. Although that does seems a bit discriminatory against amphibians. But hey frogs, take it up with those counseling types. I think they would call that a "cop out" Sorry fro...

Almost ten years have passed since I last sat at a keyboard (probably in nothing but my underwear and a stained wife beater with some sort of unidentified crumbs....) and guess what??? NOTHING HAS CHANGED. I am probably still wearing the same nasty wife beater. Are you fuc%$ing kidding me?  I am nothing if not predictable. Score one for me. I might actually be living a real life ground hog day movie plot. Wake up. Same Shit. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.  But thankfully I don't yet look like Bill Murray. Although, the amount of mysterious mustache hairs and wrinkles that are appearing my Bill Murray days are rapidly approaching. It was suggested to me that journaling (I am getting some major deja vu … since this has happened before) is therapeutic. I am still not convinced, but if sharing my nutbagness (yes that is a word) with the world of one accidental reader can help someone feel better about themselves because they are not me - then I'll do my part to better this world. So ...