Anyone that remembers when I first launched BWTF probably remembers the tongue-in-cheek writings, the movie reviews (those were fun and might return, eventually), and the survival guides for various situations (vampires, end of the world, zombies, etc), and various random drawing uploads. I don’t want to write most of that anymore, I just want to write. I want to talk about my life, so when I’m dead someone can look back and see that I never knew what I was doing and was just tripping over my own proverbial dick through life trying to figure shit out. It was so hard to write a blog post back then, because I didn’t take anything seriously.
I still don’t take shit seriously. I have a real, professional job with real, professional people and I’m sitting at my desk with my personal laptop covered in horror themed stickers in jeans and a nice shirt on my lunch break writing a fucking blog post while listening to The Magnus Archives for the fourth time because it’s just that goddamn good.
But I know what I want to write about for this first day back, and that’s about my upcoming vacation.
People who know me know that I don’t get the opportunity to go on actual vacations very often. I work, I go home. Sometimes I see my friends. However, I am going on my first cruise next week. And ain’t that just so typical – I reopen my blog and then immediately go on a 5 day cruise. I’m looking forward to it, because it’s also a couple other firsts for me. It’ll be my first time going on a plane. It’ll be my first trip to Florida. It’ll be my first time leaving the country. And I get to do this with two of my closest friends and my partner. It’s going to be fun, even though my pre-trip anxiety is trying to convince me that it’ll be just awful. I know it won’t me, it’ll be awesome, but goddamn is that pre-trip anxiety a fucking bitch to deal with.
It’s telling me that I’m not prepared enough. The kids will all get hurt or starve while I’m gone. I’ll leave a relatively clean house and come home to a cesspool. I’ll come back to no job. All kinds of stuff piling in my head that I’m dutifully taking 2 seconds to examine and then Marie Kondo into the mental trash bin, just like the doctor suggested I try in an effort to keep me from being on anxiety medications for my entire life. I focus on the things I actually know about the trip: we will swim, we will find fun things to do, we will explore, and we’ll make memories.
I’ll take pictures. I’ll plan a blog post about it. I’ll say, “We should do this again next year,” and we might actually do it again the next year, because as we’re getting older so are the kids and they’re becoming less dependent on us.
We haven’t even started packing yet. We’ll be on the ship in 6 days and we haven’t even made a list of the things that we’ll need to pack. We got the plane tickets purchased. We got the rental car booked. We have a hotel room in Florida for one night. We’re all set on the big things, but we haven’t started to pack. Hell, Travis still needs to go buy some shorts for the trip because all he owns is pants due to the fact that he, like me, works and then goes home and sometimes see his friends.
I’ll spend the week after work cleaning and making a list of what I’ll need to pack. We’ll squeeze in a little time in Helldivers 2 with one of our other friends, cracking jokes and being agents of chaos.
And that’s the first blog post wrapped.
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