QOTD – Who the Hell Am I?

You probably don’t like me. I mean, let’s face it, I’m an overweight, lazy, rarely motivated, out-of-shape, ill-mannered, argumentative, pessimistic asshole. It’s true. The glass is not half-full, or half-empty, because typically there’s whiskey in it, and if it’s empty, then I’ve run out, and I’m pissed off, and just hoping that there’s another bottle lying around somewhere. Actually, that’s not true, which also makes me a liar. I don’t drink all that much these days, and I buy expensive whiskey, so when I do drink it, I sip it, and when it gets to the bottom of the glass, I’m fairly satisfied, because let’s face it, it’s good whiskey, and I’m probably a bit more relaxed than when I started. I enjoy a good escape from reality, which I get from writing, or music, or whatever else it is I do. I have fifty pounds to lose, but live less than a mile from a gym membership that I boast about on Facebook once or twice a month when I decide I need a “feel-good” moment in my life. I pry into other people’s business, take on everyone’s issues except my own, and until recently refused to admit that I needed to see a shrink. Now, I’m the medicated facade of happy, which makes those around me like me a bit more, and I don’t get as annoyed with, well, those around me. I’m the catch of the century, and I’ll teach your children all they need to know about life, love, success, ruined dreams, unclaimed achievements, drugs, sex, and rock ‘n’ roll.

All that being said, I don’t really care what you think, because, really, why should I? It’s my life, and the only thing that matters is that I know who the hell I am. Actually, over the last couple of years, I’ve truly come to like myself. It’s been a welcomed change. Sure, I’m most of what I’ve written above, but to be perfectly honest – and let’s face it, I’ve already said I’m a liar, so how many of you will really believe me? – I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have the perfect fiance, the greatest cats, I get to play music on a regular basis, write my heart out, interview my idols, and teach the future leaders of the free world. I’m looking at marriage, a family, financial freedom, and when I look in the mirror, I can smile back at myself, knowing that each day is going to be as good as I allow it to be, and that I can make the changes needed to better myself – as long as I want to, which I finally, after several years, actually want to do. I’m a tattooed, cardigan, t-shirt, jeans, and glasses wearing, rock ‘n’ roll singing, stream of consciousness writing, mostly pessimistic lover of literature, and I kick ass.

So, how about you?

Question of the Day:

Who the hell are you? 

5 thoughts on “QOTD – Who the Hell Am I?

  1. Thank you for the share!

    I’m a twenty something year old guy with a stupidly diverse schedule all due to his 4th grade teacher telling him, “you can’t do everything. In order to be successful you have to specialize and master a subject of interest.” So now I’m paying the price and balance work, excessive exercise, excessive writing, studying, reading research articles, excessive I don’t know what I’m doings and non-stop coffee refills and I like to argue. Can you tell? My life only consists in direct conflict with this woman.

    I like to wear baseball caps and snapbacks because I think they feel great on my head. If you could visualize a man in business attire and some sort of hat on, thats me in the future.

    I’m a zero to 100 kind of guy. I do something or not at all. However, my personality and visual in life is more of a grey area kind of thing. I don’t understand it yet. Most of my poetry starts with picturing this grey area and thinking about life and death. Plus, I exchange verses with a professor of mine, older woman, who suggested I do this. I thought it was good advice so now I live my life thinking about Life and Death also. Depressing but uplifting.

    I’m transitioning my life right now from working as a social worker into going back to school for my PhD in Clinical Psychology. Writing is my therapy as it is for many of us. If you haven’t tried it or don’t like to write, yelling is also very helpful. Or winking directly at yourself in the mirror and saying, “you’re great” every morning, that helps also.

    Otherwise, I dress in V-necks and holes in my jeans with Toms. I talk about philosophy and like to confuse people and walk away.

    Now I’m off to work. Peace.

  2. I am a new adult. A full-time office assistant who can see the beauty in anything except myself. I am a walking contradiction. Trying to figure out how to balance empathy with apathy because I loathe society, but love humanity. Trying to value relationship as much as autonomy, but that leaves me remaining celibate and horny. Trying to stomp through this world unnoticed, without stepping on anybodies toes. Trying to figure out whose land this really is, meanwhile staying cultural appropriate, but most just assume I should not even be in that debate seeing as I am a white female, so usually I stop trying. Trying to keep a hold of my creative emergence, meanwhile being stuck under fluorescent lighting 40 hours out of my week, but I can not even seem to finish this paragraph so I am going to stop trying. For now.

  3. ϖɧœ the Hell?

    I’m bald. I wear a hat so I don’t shine.
    I write in poetry all the time.
    Oh–I’m a boy Scout. Eagle.
    I’d be president if they would inaugurate smeagol.

    iPoet. Bi-poetry spilling
    I know-it-all, found a blog-tree
    Tei-bo. Naked yoga
    round-house kick a guy sporting rhymes like these?

    Yoda, I kick him with foot-ball ease
    then I appease him, lick him clean
    of wisdom I want
    (and other shades of green).

    Like I cruised to Columbia in the 80’s.
    Trip white gun line barriers
    ladies twisting their babies, making
    them all eyes call western world.

    Jesus saved me.
    Now I save him from cross
    debating with fundamentalist baiting
    and trading hermeneutics for gravy.

    I’m a desert poet maybe artist caving
    in, lately, winning, take these tinny
    word slim Jims, to Jim…
    Hahahahahaahahaha you know it.

    I smoked pot. Smelly. Top started
    to tolerate me. Now I see.
    Weight started gaining, like food babies.
    Lately though, no wight training

    could help, or help slow me from ahh…reigning.

    Man I cant even write normal no more.
    I love your articles. I think you do give a shit. I’ll piss you off some day, since you already have to me.
    Jim -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-

  4. My skin smells different in the sunshine.

    I’ve been told that I am my grandmother’s granddaughter because although I know that everybody poops, I believe no one should hear me do it.

    Diet coke and Rose run though my veins.

    I hate the thought of trying on white dresses.

    I’d rather do it myself than have to redo it when he does it wrong.

    I still have no idea how to even begin to forgive. Cross me once, may you always look twice for buses.

    Baby fever is beginning to settle deep down in my core.

    I bleed and bruise far more that I cry.

    I can’t even remember the last time I wore a pair of jeans.

    The grey in my hair is actually spray paint.

    I’d rather dumpster dive than cruise the mall.

    I fell in love with a man who encourages my crazy.

    I am the Mistress of Junk 🙂

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