DON’T CALL IT A COMEBACK.

I been here for years.

Doing a lot of shit I said I’d never do and then getting my ass kicked for it. When was the last time I wrote here? Who knows, who cares. Right?

Yeah. This is like when Sydney Bristow shows up 2 years later after being brainwashed and doing a lot of dirty work for the enemy, then she’s all, what Vaughn you married this blonde ho I was only away for like 2 weeks! And then Vaughn is all, bitch please you were gone for 2 years, and not just gone but like, DEAD.

Yeah. So, after 2 years, I’m back from the dead. Kind of.

REWIND.

Tantalus. Grad school. I finish up with that. I spend a month in Southeast Asia climbing hundreds of steps (all temples MUST be built upon mountains of steps) and exploring my emotional peak. I then go into associate training for banking.

Huh?

Stay with me.

I know I said I’d never go back, but I did. I totally lived up to my name, and I’m thoroughly ashamed. What the fuck was it? Greed, lack of creativity, sloth…

Whatever it was, it was a complete fucking disaster. Economy tanks (“It’ll never be worse than post-9/11” – my famous last words). Coworkers for the most part suck. When you’re not the brightest bulbs in the bunch, you gotta make up for it somehow… and that usually means you develop yourselves as ruthlessly manipulative two-faced douchebags, who either make a conformist bitch like me do all your work then drag her name through the mud, or never worked with me but feel like jumping on the name-dragging mud bandwagon. Don’t they sound delish and exactly the kind of jackals who can really nurture a career? Oh and they suck so badly, that I get myself into a pseudo relationship with one (albeit one who was not involved in mudslinging).

WHAAAAT.

You remember, that one I went rollerblading for and then didn’t call or visit or show any emotion when I ended up in the ER. Who, apart from being an emotionally unavailable and very likely homosexual sociopath (I’m pretty sure he’s the basis for the Simple Jack character from Tropic Thunder – yeah I have great taste), cheats on me with a college student who when I see her appears to be the living incarnate of those little trolls you used to put on your pencils in elementary school. And I’m not saying that to be mean. I’m saying that because it’s true. But funny enough, it was the same politically venomous environment that drove SJ out of the country and back to Europe. Though I like to think that I had a little something to do with that too.

But back to me.

So, to recap, what does being a conformist bitch get me? The unique, high profile, upwardly mobile opportunity to rot in a dungeon, 24/7, with Simple Jack in front of me dialing up hos, and a hundred thousand knives in my back.

And then it came.

I thought I’d be angrier about it. I thought I’d spew all the venom I’d been absorbing, I thought I’d spit it in his face and burn the place down. Instead I just took my money and ran.

“I’m going to have to let you go” = Red Sea parting.


Let my people go!

You know, the first time I got out of prison it hadn’t quite reformed me. I had a lot of fight left, I had a lot of shit to prove (“prove”), I couldn’t figure out how to adapt to the outside world. That was probably because it was a prison break, I bust myself out and when you’ve been fighting for so long, made a career of it, you just turn every corner looking for the next fight. And so when you can’t find a good one you do some bad shit and go straight back to jail, though in my case you do pass GO and collect a crazy signing bonus doing so. But this second time around, it’s different. I’m done.

I mean it.

No really!

And it’s not so much that I had to take 5 months to get here, the seeds of this decision were probably subconsciously planted a long time ago, and finally broke ground when the warden unlocked the gates. These lovely 5 months have just been detox, stepping out from behind the shadow of my former self. Sure, I’m bleeding cash and I have zero direction, but I'm shedding dead weight and my silver streaks are turning back brown. The only thing I haven’t kicked, as you may well have noticed, is the insomnia. But maybe I should just go with it, as some of my best ideas have been borne in a semi-somnambulant state. Regardless, psychologically, I’m in the best shape ever.

So call it what you will – renaissance, rebirth, resurrection. Doesn’t really matter as those things should all be happening continuously, if I’m doing things right. What really matters is, this bitch is back.

For real.