A reference indicating that the person being doubted is lacking in the mock politeness required to convince someone that they really care about attending to events, duties, or rituals that no one should ever be asked to perform.
In approximately 24 days, my kids will officially move out of the house.
On November 25th, I go into the studio to record Hard Talks. I'm so over this record right now, you wouldn't believe I'm an artist anymore.
I'm also experiencing my emotions in pointed extremes: one moment I'm fine, sort of in my own thoughts and being a camera in my environment; the next I'm sitting at the wheel crying in front of my house.
Other times, I'm just angry. Inexplicably, irrationally, remarkably angry.
Once upon a dinner, I had to eat peas. I was told if I didn't finish all the peas on my plate, I couldn't be excused from the table...
As you can see, there are only a smattering of peas actually "on" the plate anymore, and the look on my face needs little description. I hate being told what to do; rebellion is literally in my name, and this is a particularly "on brand" instance of it.
I was allowed to leave the table on the technicality of my cleverness. They thought I was funny.
I can't leave this table.
I can't, and I know I can't. But I want to so bad it makes my skull itch. So I cry in the bathroom at my job, splash cold water on my face, and smile from inside my Customer Service Carol mask.
My dad says when things get hard, I want to quit, a negative trait my mom taught me.
I want to quit so much right now. But these peas might be necessary to my growth as an adult individual...
I'm two (2) days away from "that time of the month" as I pound this out on a borrowed keyboard. I feel like my mind is tilted inside my head, invalidating my words left and right.
Nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong.
1st World Problems.
Sometimes I doubt my commitment to Sparkle Motion.