Dirty Martinis and Life

Just over here contemplating how it takes years to unravel generations of social conditioning that has us believing we have to play certain roles that we actually don’t and that as soon as we’re old enough to know what a tampon is they tell us we need to be a gushing river sparkling and twinkling in the sunlight of wider society’s divine waterfall potential with all the zeal and vigor of a torrent but if we don’t want to be a magnificent and subservient tributary of the source, enthusiastic in our bondage, and instead we want to become our own current, perhaps even small and soft and trickling like a leaky tap still finding its flow and not emptying itself hurriedly into the barren basin of its deferential existence then we’re going to have to be comfortable with being misunderstood and often disliked but I’m aaaaalso contemplating whether I should start with a dirty martini tonight or just stick with gin and tonics. 

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