Better to be beautiful than good

Disagree? Take it up with Oscar Wilde. Except you can't. Because he's dead.

You could always take it up with the rest of America. Ask any high schooler if it is better to study for 20 minutes before school or spend the time making her naturally straight hair straighter. I rest my case.

On that note, I met with my agent yesterday. She a nice, middle aged woman who has certificates of some sort way high up on the wall where you can't read them, which would seen sketchy if she weren't so good. I'm working on getting a new portfolio together. Apparently I've changed enough that I now attract a different clientele. I guess that's fine. The curves you acquire in your twenties simply don't make sense on a "16-year-old" so I guess I buy that. It's just another hint that I haven't made anything of myself yet and I'm quickly spiraling into old age.

I'm not putting much hope in this career, seeing as I'm not stereotypically pretty and my husband takes issue with taking off my clothes for money. (Like, what the hell? Also one correction: I'm sure he would be fine taking off my clothes for money but you get the idea. Don't criticize my poor sentence syntax because I really don't care.) And then there is the ever present 2 at the beginning of my age. Followed by a zero, of course, but no one cares by then.

I should really get a degree. I mean, no one can look as sexy as me forever so I should really have some sort of back up plan. You know, go back to school, learn my colors, how to add, and whatever else they teach at community college.

When I was young, I thought things would be different once you "grew up". You get a career, move up the ladder, turn 65 and then die. In reality, life is much more like.. the face of a cliff. Pull yourself up a few feet, grab for a rock, find out the rock requires too many composition credits, jump down, get back up, take a few steps left, half step right, start again, and by the time you reach the top, in the process of finding your way, you are on a completely different mesa than you ever intended.

If that seemed like a run-on you are probably right. And yet, I think it is a perfect example of how I feel career-wise at this moment. I want to be successful, but I want to be happy. I want to be creative and yet challenged mentally. I want to make money, but have not the smallest clue how to do that.

I really just want to BE something. As a mother who is pretty substantially financially supported (ha ha - words are fun), there is no drive to get a job and to go back to school is such a long commitment. How do I know i won't change my mind at the end of four years of school? What if I do everything right and get a job I hate?

I think I heard somewhere that in Japan or where ever, the employer pays for your extra schooling after you get hired and then you work for that company until you fulfill the contract. The US should do something like that. Or maybe I should just become Japanese.

The First Irrelevant Conclusion

I don't know what makes someone join the army. Sense of duty? Honor? Delusions of a nice pay raise and benefits?

I don't know what possessed me to encourage my husband to join. We were broke and thought, Hey, a forty thousand dollar bonus could come in handy someday.

So much for that. Apparently we don't get it until the end of his enlistment. Six years from now. Sorry creditors, take it up with Uncle Sam.

I wonder what will happen when we're done with this six year sentence.. I don't remember what it felt like to live in a real home as opposed to the apartments we've been migrating to. I don't remember what it was like to have a job, and I definitely don't remember morning sex.

I like answering questions on Yahoo answers. It makes me feel like I have friends somewhere. Pathetic, screwed up friends who may or may not be pregnant. So many women on there ask questions like, "How do I get a military man to marry me?" and "I think guys in uniform are sooooOoOo hoooot!" To be more accurate, most are probably high school girls, but it's such a rediculous misconception.

The thing is.. I am a military brat, born and raised. Slutty mom and crazy-ass dad n' all. I used to love it, and even thought about joining myself for a while, but now I wonder what the hell I was thinking. The schedules are always changing and it's pretty hard to adjust to. Today my husband had a 7:30 formation, and of course slept in until 7:08. I'm not sure if he got a counseling statement for it because we're not exactly on speaking terms right now. (i.e. He says the sleeping in was my fault. I say, Hell no.)

Tomorrow he has to get up for a 4:30 formation. His logical conclusion is to stay up all night so that he doesn't sleep in again, which again he reminds me is my fault for letting him stay up too late.

Okay then. That'll teach me to sex anybody up... ever again!

My husband has adjustment disorder and acute anxiety disorder in combination with severe depression. His therapist says so. (I totally called it! Point for me!) I want to be sympathetic, but when someone pisses you off so freakin much, it's difficult to care. If that makes me a bitch, so be it.

The mood swings are tiring. They truly make me want to punch him in the face or shake him and scream, WHERE IS THE SWEET SENSITIVE GUY I MARRIED?? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!? But I'm just not sure that would go over well. I don't want to deal with his drama anymore, but the fact is: I really do still love him. And I hope, someday, he'll come back and be passionate about something, anything.

I guess that's what bothers me the most. Through a year of basic training and AIT he has lost just about everything that made him interesting or unique. He has no hobbies, no interests, no passion, no drive, and no ambition. We used to stay up all night plotting and fantasizing about the future. Now, if I get a two word sentence out of him, it's a good day. 12 hours of work and 6+ hours of TV a day does not a healthy marriage make.

I'm close to scrapping the whole damn thing, but I'm too prideful. My parents would totally throw this failure in my face. Oh well. Maybe a good affair is what I need.