In looking back over the past few months, I have come to the conclusion that I've been entirely way too whiny. (I don't have a job; I don't have sex; My car is broken; I hate public aid WHAAA WHAAA WHAAA) Of course, it helped that some of you told me so - via text, email, voice mail, phone call, carrier pigeon, skywriting plane, electric sign on the blimp....okay, okay, OKAY! I get it! I'm not special and need to GET OVER myself!
"Marr, Pity Party Table of One, your padded room is now available!"
My aunt told me I have guts yesterday. I'm still working on trying to believe her. Guts? Me? "Jeni Marr has guts" was never a sentence I heard floating around me. Maybe it's time.
In all honesty, my boot-straps epiphany comes due to a series of books that I am reading.
Don't laugh. Well, okay. You can laugh.
Spoiler alert!!!!
Sookie Stackhouse can wind up almost dead in every single "Dead" book and that girl just keeps plugging along. Sure, she was depressed when she finds out Bill only wooed her because the queen of Louisiana told him too. But, then she met the tiger and Bill was forgotten. Or was it the werewolf first? For a virgin, that Sookie sure picked up the dating thing pretty quick. (jealous) And sure, the last attack by the psycho faes nearly broke her...but she was suiting up in her bikini to worship the sun in no time.
So no, I'm not a telepath. (Thank the Lord). And no, we really don't live in a world where vampires and two-natureds walk among us (um, maybe), But Charlaine Harris has a knack of showing how having a little pluck can go a long way. Of course it doesn't hurt to have a little fairy blood in you too...and be under the protection the a hot vampire...but I digress.
Being on Team Sookie has provided me an entertaining way to gauge my 'disappointments' against a woman, albeit fictional, that literally gets her ass kicked. Over and Over and Over and Over.
No guts, no glory, my dad always said. I'll take the guts and run with it!
Are you shaking your head at me? Whew! I'm back in the game! :)
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