Hey, what happened to your life?

That is the question I ask myself. What happened to your life?

Not that my life has taken a negative turn. I'm not doing intravenous drugs, I haven't been arrested, and I'm not being abused. My life has just become, mundane, maybe? If you can ever call raising a four year old mundane.
I've become...a "home maker". Never, in a million years did I expect that. I have wanted to be an actress, an opera singer, a writer...anything to get my name put on a map somewhere. For awhile, I called myself a drummer. But Whitewolf betrayed me, and I left Voice of United Spirit, sensing that I was no longer welcome.

So here I am. When Arthur goes to work, I watch the kid. I clean house, I make ham-fisted attempts at cooking, and I occasionally try to pursue a hobby that isn't watching Netflix, or screwing around on tumblr. I do the shopping, and go to the laundromat. I understand my mother's feelings of isolation during my childhood. This is lonely. Even with the internet, this is so lonely.

Ten years ago, I was sixteen and hopeful. In love all the time, longing for fame and fortune. Now I want...what? A published novel. For things to get a little easier. A baby. Maybe.

I never write anymore. I never do anything. I can feel my brain dying from lack of stimulation. What the fuck happened?

I'm bringing this blog back. Actually writing. About stuff. Anything. My kid. The weather. More cemetery reviews. The many ways one can cook a potato.