Life is all about taking risks.
I have to admit, last night I was in a bit of a stinky mood. Not the worst by any means, but a recent conversation with my mother has had me a little vexed as of late. It started off with a general chat about housework, about my brother and the fact that her son-in-law was no more perfect than her son himself was. The pair of them coiuld use a little “domestic god” training sometimes it seems, nothing more than that.
“Yes, but Matt works full-time” she said, instinctively I felt a little hopeless. So what? I’m supposed to forego my blog and dedicate myself instead to a life of cleaning and servitude? Yeah, right. On a list of things not about to happen,. that one was towards the top.
I wanted to argue, about not being successful yet with my blog but the very fact that I was working on it, and that one day I hoped to be successful and have a book and to write full-time and… and all of those things. Not to be famous, no, but successful, and I was seriously working on becoming successful. Any fame (or even recognition) on the back of that success would be a bonus.
I decided to bite my tongue, something it’s worth doing sometimes if only for the sake of peace. She was wrong and I knew she was wrong, but whatever. Let it go.
Still though, seeing Matt led in bed gaming while I cleaned got right under my skin. We both work during the day, and even if one of us doesn’t get paid (yet), it’s still work. Sort of volunteer work at this time, perhaps? An unpaid work trial, maybe? Anyway.
Admittedly, I threw dinner together with not a whole lot of care or passion. Oh sure, I could make burgers, but I didn’t have to care that much about them while I did. My to-do list was already back up to ninety-nine outstanding tasks with thanks to this cold and frankly, the less I cared about things right now, then the more mental energy I conserved. In fact, occasonal intentional apathy is a great way to save yourself if you’re prone to emotional exhaustion, just don’t overdo it.
“Hmm, these chips are good” Matt noted, trying out one of the skin-on fries that I’d purchased on my last ASDA shop.
“Really? Ironic” I muttered, trying to sound as unphased as I possibly could.
“What have you done to them?” he asked, regarding me with suspicion.
“… Sea salt and fresh cracked black pepper” I said, daring to peek up at him and failing to stifle my smile .
“You little shit!” he laughed, “you betrayed me!”
“Not even sorry” I giggled.
Yesterday I hit he point on my blog where “where I’m at now” collided with “where I was at last time”. What I mean by that is, I installed the Yoast SEO plugin and started boosting SEO on all of my posts (and thus on my whole site), but then I had a moment where I stopped liking my old way of doing images, so I went back to the start a few weeks into the original process and I started changing the images up instead, thereby putting my SEO work on hold, at least until now. There’s still a lot of work to do, but I do five old posts a day, knowing full well that it’s the small things that make the biggest difference and every bit of improved SEO will inevitably boost my site traffic. Already, it’s paying off.
Before I even signed into my laptop this morning I’d hit 46 organic views, without social media, and that’s even before posting this post or before polishing up my five posts for today. This was the point that I was hopeful for, that I was looking forward to, that I was excited about.
You see, the beginnings of my success (and my improvements and continued successes with time) feel like the proverbial “fuck you” to those who said I couldn’t, or who put me down in some way, to those who judged me and criticized me while I struggled instead of standing by me and building me up and cheering me on. I was weak and I was struggling, and instead of believing in me, they put me down. I’m not there yet and I’m still far from perfect, but then what is perfection if little more than an unobtainable goal?
Actually, I think I know what perfection is, and it comes in the form of ice cream.
This past week, Matt and I decided to explore Nuii, the deluxe ice cream brand. The salted caramel and Australian macademia one was rated “average” and “nothing to write home about”, but last night we tried the dark chocolate and Nordic berry.
“If good sex was an ice cream… ” I giggled haughtily. The dark chocolate, the cocoa nibs and sweet blueberry sauce was a delectable combination.
“I was just thinking these are good” Matt said.
“The new favourite?”. He nodded.
This morning I was awoken from my sleep by something pressed against my inner thigh. I sighed and protested at my being awoken, but otherwise ignored it. It happened again and I flexed my hips slightly – God damnit, it was going to stir a little something if it wasn’t careful. I peeked down to move it away.
“Goog morning” Matt grinned up at me.
“Matthew… you have to work” I tried. My protests were futile.
“Shouldn’t you be signed in?” I argued. It’s Wednesday morning, sex never happens before work on a Wednesday morning.
“Uh huh” he said nonchalantly, his tongue never leaving the apex of my thighs.
I grabbed a pillow to drown out the inevitable crescendo – our poor neighbour’s did not need to hear that over their morning coffee.
“Fuck me, please?” I implored. There was no way he could leave me un-fucked, not now.
“I have to work” he said casually, climbing back off of the bed and smirking at me. I had half a mind to throw my pillow at him, but my muscles were like jelly and my senses still weren’t fully with me.
“Please?” I tried again.
“I have a meeting.”
I scowled at him for a moment. When all else fails, it’s time to call in the nuclear option, and I know just how much Daddy loves to breed.
“Fine,” I sighed, “but know this – I forgot my pill last night, so it’s a little risky right now. What you do with that information, of course, is all up to you.”