I’ve been trying to think of a way to reintroduce this blog without having to admit that I’ve been a lazy asshole full of half-baked ideas, but in the spirit of lazy assholes with half-baked ideas, nothing is coming to me.
In the meantime I’ve been going through all of my old posts adding tags and cleaning up egregious spelling and grammar errors as much as possible, save for stylistic choices such as all lowercase letters and perhaps overly-liberal sprinklings of “duh”s “lol”s and “wtf”s. Not that I don’t still believe in the power of a well-placed lol, of course. I began the oh-so-poetic habit of using only lowercase letters in my writing sometime in my early teen years and had to train myself to write with proper caps when I started writing and editing professionally, which was a big step… Yup, and someday I will learn to tie my shoes properly without using double bunny ears and you’ll be the first to know.
Anyway, I’ve been writing professionally since around 2008 when I thought I’d found my dream job, but I was either wrong about that or somehow managed to fuck it up. Both are entirely possible within in the Failure realm. In any event, I do some freelance work now but am mostly unemployed. My person/boyfriend/partner/girlfriend and I will have been together for five years in October (July, really) and we are still sickeningly in love. This kind of sickening, life-affirming love and devotion is contrary to everything I stand for, but seeing as I regularly stand for being contrary, it works out! I have a Pomeranian and am a total crazy dog lady now. Remember when I was a cat person!? My former cat love was a weird thing I “discovered” while going through this blog, in addition to the fact that for some odd reason I used to spell catalog as “catalogue” and hooray as “hurray”, neither of which is incorrect, per se, but odd because I don’t know where I picked up those spellings or when exactly I dropped them.
Also, did I mention I am 31-years-old and live at home with my mother? I guess we can just get that out of the way and I should warn you that it’s actually no fun to judge or mock me for it because I do a damn fine job of that on my own. I’m not saying I’m funnier than you, but I have a lot more material to work with, and I promise I’ll lay myself bare for your entertainment, as always.
Actually, to be perfectly honest, I feel a bit guarded right now. I recently had an unpleasant exchange with a former friend (I threw the first punch, full disclosure, but she brought a gun to a text fight) wherein I was verbally assaulted with many of the same failures and shortcomings I tear myself down for internally but also find humor in. Making fun of myself and complaining about my “shitty life” has always been a coping mechanism, an art form, hell, even a pleasure of mine, but hearing someone else say the same fucked-up things that I think about myself then turn into jokes — only minus the joking part — kind of made me want to be nice to myself instead and not give them any more ammunition. I don’t know, I guess it just doesn’t feel that funny to be self-deprecating right now. I wrestled with the idea of using this blog to write in again partially for that very reason. I mean, do I even fit into the same cement shoes I did when I started writing as the Failure Princess? And what exactly is “failure”? I don’t have a job, any money, a living space of my own, a formal education, self-confidence, any sense of self-worth whatsoever… but I do have an amazing relationship, a wonderful dog, the kind of happiness I did not think was possible for someone like me, and all kinds of good things that are not that funny to write about. Luckily I also still have loads of good stories, a lot of opinions, and a taste for cheap booze, so we should be fine. Amanda: Failure Princess is alive and well.
These days, I don’t think those cement shoes exactly fit me anymore. I still carry them around with me though, like a party girl on a walk of shame, and maybe I always will. But maybe I won’t.