So, my very wonderful mother (who is on her way here as I type!) really doesn't like it when I use profanity on the blog, and I believe she found yesterday's post a mite offensive and markedly without happy. I have to disagree - for two reasons.
First, let's look at the issue of profanity. I'm not, perhaps despite appearances contrary, an advocate of using expletives willy-nilly. Swearing can be greatly efficacious when used appropriately, but nobody benefits from poorly utilized f-bombs. Example: Yesterday, I had some f*cking cottage cheese for lunch. See? Totally superfluous and distracting. But, with practice, profanity can be used judiciously to convey emotion in powerful ways, which is what I strive for.
Secondly, and more importantly, let's ignore the pottymouth and look at the purpose of yesterday's entry. I had been angry - nigh on furious - all week long. After yesterday's entry, I felt better. Relieved. This may sound eight kinds of hokey, but writing it was cathartic, and, really, that's what this blog is about. I'm trying not to let my anger fester unexpressed; that shit will eat your insides (see: generations of Southern women). I'm not talking about being rude or snarky or banging your fists on your steering wheel. I'm talking looking at what's really pissing you off and giving it the old one-two. Knock that shit out, and then you can deal with it without killing anyone. Remember, you're doing remarkably well.
So, if you're not a fan of the occasional expletive, then maybe this isn't the blog for you. I mean, it's a blog, not a Christmas letter. I hope you enjoy it. I really enjoy writing it. And that's about as touchy feely as I can get.