You may have noticed that I lasted all of A WEEK AND A HALF using the NaBloPoMo writing prompts.
First of, ADD motherfuckers. I warned you.
Second of all, you can’t blame me, really, when this week’s prompts sound like a bunch of fucking Miss America pageant interview questions:
Monday, November 16 – Pretending you have the expertise to make the product a reality, what do you wish you could invent?
Answer: I’d invent a life-sized doll of your mom.
Tuesday, November 17 – What is one place you need to see to feel like your life is complete?
Answer: I need to see…your mom.
Wednesday, November 18 – What do you hope people remember about you after you’re gone?
Answer: My razor sharp wit. I know your mom will.
Thursday, November 19 – Where would you want to retire if money wasn’t an issue?
Answer: Your mom’s house.
Friday, November 20 – What do you hope happens by the end of this year?
Answer: I hope that rash your mom has clears up so she can hang out again.
I don’t want to sound like I’m directly bashing the BlogHer people who came up with the list because I get it, it’s not easy. Shit, I do a thing called the Friday Five on a knitting forum, where I come up with five usually at least tenuously themed questions to ask everyone once a week and even THAT gets really hard sometimes. Like, to the point where I start avoiding the internet some Fridays so that I can claim I was sick and didn’t, uhh, internet at all that day, and that’s why I didn’t do the Friday Five. *shifty look*
Basically, I’m cool with the writing prompts until they start getting DEEP…and making me have to like, THINK. Or worse, FEEL. I feel more than enough on a day to day basis already, believe you me. I feel shit that isn’t even appropriate or, in some cases, applicable.
Happy commercial with a cute puppy? I FEEL OVERWHELMING SADNESS THAT THE PUPPY WILL SOME DAY GROW OLD AND DIE, JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. LIFE IS SO POINTLESS.
Fun pop song on the radio? ANGER BECAUSE THIS SONG CLEARLY STEALS PARTS FROM TWO OTHER, BETTER SONGS, AND KIDS CALL THIS MUSIC. WTF, ALL THE GOOD MUSIC HAS ALREADY BEEN MADE. THERE IS NO POINT IN LISTENING TO THE RADIO ANYMORE.
Friend tells me exciting news? I will not only be happy and excited for them but I will then proceed to WELL UP WITH TEARS BECAUSE LIFE IS SO BEAUTIFUL I JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.
Sooo, yeah. Sorry BlogHer writing prompts, but I feel enough feels that I can’t turn the volume down on to begin with. Trying to expound upon how I’d invent a way to feed the world…
…or how I don’t think I’ll ever feel like my life is complete because there’s so much to see and do that it’s overwhelming and makes me really sad that I’m going to miss a whole lot of it no matter how hard I try…
…or that I’m afraid that no one will remember me for ANYTHING after I die because no one will have really known me…
…or that I can’t fathom picking a place to retire because I can’t fucking fathom retiring at all…
…or that my only hope for the end of every single year ever is that people will somehow come to their senses and stop fucking HATING AND KILLING each other…
…just isn’t something that I’ve got the emotional stamina to handle.
At least, not on the average weekday, where it’s “inappropriate” to start drinking at 10am.