12:33 The truth is I’m questioning my imagined chosen professional industry and feeling disillusionment. I’m looking at certain idols and the way they present themselves and thinking, but, that’s what I’d have to do, to be successful? Spin-doctoring? Making ends out of middles? Promoting myself as a blue gnome?
I look at the way I actually am — I am actually a tired, currently lazy-ish (though loathe to admit it) housewife, doing so much less than she is theoretically capable of — and I realize that I have a choice: I could frame that as something to glorify, and, if I worked hard enough and steadily enough at that, I could become revered for it; or, I could tell the gods-honest truth with no fancy packaging, and be scoffed at and despised, most likely by the same kind of people I sometimes revere
the truth is I think I want what “they” have (love, success, adoration, beauty) but I fear it also, knowing it’s so much more work to uphold than just being average; hence the reason I repeatedly self-sabotage
The truth is I wrote this morning about feelings and marriage and the possibility of racism existing in our current town and not knowing how to deal with that, but I didn’t know how or whether to publish any of it
the truth is last night at dinner I found out that one of the local teachers is apparently so tuned out (looking at his phone?) that some kids are allegedly watching porn *in the classroom* and the teacher isn’t aware or doing anything about it.
the truth is that I also feel for the teacher and the school and the kids and the parents and even the racists (they learned it from somewhere) and I can’t bloody well get a grasp on what should be happening here or what I should be doing to change it…
the truth is I can barely get a handle on our own technology situation at home
the truth is that I am a technology addict myself (though mostly for creative and documentary and educational endeavours)
the truth is that even though I talk to my own kids constantly about input/output I know that the grand majority of kids in this town (perhaps this country, this world?) are not being taught how to filter information and so are picking up all kinds of horrific ideas and images, which ultimately will affect the future
the truth is that someone close to me says that things like this are not my fight to fight, because I’m a mother of four children, and I have the kids to think about
The kids to think about
the kids to think about
the truth is I think of (and worry about) nearly nothing but the kids, at least when I’m not busy thinking about myself
the truth is I think that if someone thinking about their kids isn’t willing to fight for things worth fighting for, then who in the fuck will
the truth is I sometimes feel that the world isn’t worth living in, if it’s just going to be superficial
the truth is that wine made things seem less superficial; it was the blue pill
the truth is that I have been meaning to make an appointment to see the school principal, but can barely manage to get dressed some days
the truth is I am drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice and writing about my thoughts and feelings rather than pretending they don’t exist
The truth is I’ve drunk nearly the whole bottle of juice, which has had little effect except perhaps to nourish my body
The truth is I am smiling right now.