Sometimes I get an idea in my head that I think is so great and it feels ambitious and doable and has so much potential. Unfortunately, I am usually 100% wrong and it's a horrible idea, stupid not ambitious and out of the realm of possibility (sorry all you Miss Mary Sunshines out there - there is such a thing as over reaching). Most of the time I think I am a realistic person; realistic about my own abilities, strengths and weaknesses. I've also learned the difference between realism and pessimism, and while I've tried to steer myself to positive thinking, lately I have embraced Negative Nancyhood. I don't feel the need to move on any time soon.
I wish I knew what I was doing wrong when I come up with my grand schemes. All negativity aside, the fact of the matter is I really do have a rather sad success rate. It's safe to say that 95% of my plans fail miserably. However, I'm usually the type of person who eats ice cream for dinner for a couple days and then gets back on the horse (who I'm about to turn into glue).
Recently, I have discovered where my part of my problem lies (the other part lies deeply buried under years of adolescent acne, bad haircuts and recurring nightmares of my teeth falling out). I was reading some comments on a web article (which I don't actually recommend doing, people have stupid opinions that should only be expressed in their own personal space; blog anyone?) that had nothing to do with actual article. One commentor wrote how the problem with our country isn't that Americans always want bigger and better, it's that they feel ENTITLED to bigger and better. I actually took a moment to look up from the computer and really process what the writer was saying because they put into words one of my biggest struggles. Most of my friends have purchased homes or have children or have access to free laundry or a combination of these things. As I was telling Husband earlier this evening, I would really love to not have to take out a small loan in quarters every time I need clean work clothes. More importantly, though, than a love affair with Maytag would be having a yard to boot the dogs out into since Melodie has to pee every time she looks at water.
After honestly thinking about it, I realized the only thing that I feel that I really truly need, is the yard. I would give anything for my girls to be able to run around unleashed and be the happy go lucky dogs they are. Sadly, we can't afford the $1400 a month rent that most landlords in our area are asking for a home in a decent safe area. I have the capacity to go the bank and get quarters and walk my happy behind the 50 yards to the laundry room; it's just after 2 years, I'm tired of doing it (hence Mt. I-Don't-Even-Remember-The-Last-Time-I-Wore-This taking shape in my hamper).
I'm venting a bit, I guess. A little upset with myself for feeling entitled to anything. I know better; I'm not entitled to anything I haven't worked for, which in turn leads one to realize you have not because you've earned not, which makes you want to take a Valium, chase it with vodka and call it a life. Totally wrestling with trying to find logical answers to questions and feeling like adulthood sucks. Like really sucks. Like sucks big huge donkey balls. *sigh*