Monday, July 13, 2009
I've come to the conclusion that I've pretty much failed at everything in my life. I remember growing up, people always used to tell me that I should do this or that when I grew up--something with my art, music, or the most popular ones- math and writing. I was always told how much potential I had. But potential meant nothing by my junior year of high school, when I decided that all I really wanted to do with my life was be a wife and mother. Simple, right? I figured that, considering I inherited my genes from my mother and father, I'd be a natural. Wrong. And the ironic thing is, not only have I failed miserable at all things homemaker, but I've pissed away all that potential in the other areas of life. I haven't drawn or painted since high school art class, haven't sung since my senior musical, I use a calculator for everything, and the only thing I've managed to write is this blog (and we can all see how successful that's been). None of that would matter though, if I had just succeeded at what I did chose to do. One look inside my life though, and it's obvious what a dismal failure I've been there too.