I have to spend 13 hours on a packed train with a baby very shortly. The baby is in a screamy mood.
I need time and space to finish my book and I do not have these things.
You know what, I wish my jaw would stop hurting. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK, JAW?
I’m tired of fretting as to what kind of a future our son is going to have. I mean, he won’t have a trust fund! What kind of parents are we?!
I’m tired of fighting.
I missed a deadline with a play because I am too tired and because I have writer’s block. My head feels as though it’s made of cotton wads.
I hadn’t noticed Caitlin Flanagan’s sexist, presumptuous article about Karen Owen and Duke last year – I was busy becoming a parent and such – but it has since been pointed out to me. The odd thing about Flanagan is that she would be a really good writer, if she were a little more brave and a little less of a snob. If she didn’t extrapolate her own anxieties unto others, but focused on why she has them in the first place. Still, I’m tired of the fact that people like her launch writing careers after “holding forth” at dinner parties and so on, while the rest of us have to bust our asses. The only reason why I bring this up, of course, is Flanagan’s own sneering contempt for women who must bust their asses.
I’m extremely tired of being told that I am a bad parent by the people who are closest to me. I’m tired of hearing that “the baby is not developing properly” when he’s developing nicely according to every single damn source I have read. So how about you keep your “helpful advice” to yourselves, bastards? Before you take an arrow to the knee, and such.
I miss sleep. I mean real sleep here. Not the fake bullshit that passes for sleep around here.
I’m tired of not having a proper home, one that at least feels like home. It doesn’t have to be fancy. I am not a very fancy person, no matter what rumours you may have heard. I would like a balcony onto some quiet dvor. And think that the real estate bubble in Moscow was and is a crime against humanity.
I’m tired of visas and work-permits and constantly feeling as though I am on the edge of some bureaucratic disaster.
Incidentally, I want to take a sledgehammer to Russian bureaucracy.
I’m tired of uncertainty and really wish my hair would style itself.
Hysterical gif is hysterical: