Reposting

This blog is where I get to have my voice. I'm not speaking for anyone or trying to convince anyone or hoping to please anyone. I'm just grabbing a tiny square of blogosphere real estate and letting it fly. It's helped me enormously to have this outlet. I think I could say, it literally saved me from bitterness during a time when I was feeling deeply disappointed with life.

I don't feel that anymore. I don't feel that disappointment. But I still love the freedom to let it hang out there and I love when I get the time to read what some of you all are hanging out there. I don't get to read enough: blogs, books, newspapers, magazines, fancy restaurant menus. I don't . One day I will have more time. Until then, I will post when I can and read your posts when I can and hopefully comment whenever I swing by to let you know I was there.

I was just having a tiny chat with someone about swearing and I got to thinking about this post from way back when I first started to blog. I don't know what the etiquette on reposting is but I guess the point is, I get to make up my own. Beware: it contains gratuitous language. Here it is:

I love to swear. I get a ridiculously puerile pleasure from it. It’s about the only place that I can cut loose now that the sun set, long ago, on the wild days of my youth. I don’t drink, smoke pot, do “e” or any other drug named after a single letter. I almost never sniff the hose-y part of the whipped cream except if there’s a chance I’ll score the last bit of the cream, it’s all about the cream, the sweet delicious cream. I don’t debt or act inappropriate sexually (or even appropriate sexually, come to think of it), steal my boss’s colorful stockings, lift passages from my sister’s diary and copy it into mine as if it represented my OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS, or pretend to guess the amount of money my parent’s wallet holds only to exclaim “you’re right!” as I palm the extra bills.

No, I’m the model of maturity, except when it comes to swearing. Or eating. Or farting. Or forgetting to throw my tampon out after leaving it on the bathtub rim like a luckless mouse during a shower. Okay, but those things aside, I really do inhale still waters and exhale the storm. At least I try, when I’m not pointing out the section of the countertop that was neglectfully left a-crumb or stomping around wondering aloud why it is only I who holds the torch in the planning and scheduling and meal-making and relationship-tending category.

And I’ve gotten very attached to it--swearing, that is. I know it’s offensive to some, and I really do apologize for stepping over the line, for saying ‘Fuck it’ when I guess I could just as easily say, ‘Oops’; or 'What the fuck?' when ‘Are you closed?’ would do or even trump it since it adds that extra old-time charm, like ‘Oh my stars!’ or ‘What in the world?’ but there you have it, there is proof that the entertainment cupboard is currently bare. Perhaps it points to some deeper issue but right now that will have to take a back burner to saving my sanity and laying a relationship-building foundation for my son. La la.

This has been going on for a long time starting way back in my early adolescence when my parents gave my sister and I one minute of swearing when we needed to blow off a little steam. At the time, we lived in a beautiful old victorian, the grand sweeping variety with 12 foot ceilings and velvet wallpaper and pockets doors throughout. There was a long butler’s pantry on the way to the kitchen flanked by glass-door cabinets, copper countertops, and an old dumbwaiter at the far end. We would open the door to that dumbwaiter and curse into its darkness at the top of our lungs while our mother stood by, watching the second hand. We tossed them all into that well with gusto, including VAGINA and PUBIC HAIR and even MRS. WATT, the vice principal who was rumored to have 3 boobs. The whole episode never failed to bring on cascades of nervous and tumbling laughter and left us breathless and invigorated, like a country run.

I don’t swear when I’m with Fluffy and I’m with him a lot; the pressure builds, as you can imagine. What helps is when Dave does something kind, like when he brings hot tea to the couch where I’ve collapse in disgust at having found dark facial hair now on my CHEEK. In these such instances, I used to say, “You are so fucking great’ but that fucking just wasn’t cutting it and so now I say “You are so fucking fucked up”  or “God, you’re fucked up” and then we bask in the glow of our mutual love. He does it too now. When I told him I loved him dearly and couldn’t imagine going on this crazy ride with anyone else, he got all misty and said “Aw, honey, you are such a piece of shit.”

Isn’t he the best?

Comments

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[Ralph Lauren Polo]

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[MommyGuilt]

Great post! I have found myself swearing a lot more too...especially about my fucking ex and his idiotic, crazy-assed bitch wife. I let my older two swear if it's not being directed AT someone...if they're talking about something pissing them off, then, ya know, they're expressing themselves. If Fuck comes out of their mouths, though, they better have a really good reason, cuz I don't like the sound of it coming from them.

That is one word, though, that I have found myself using MUCH more frequently. Well, you know....sometimes you gotta just let it loose! So FUCK IT!

[KC'sMommy]

Hi,

You have a great blog and I love reading it!

[~ danielle]

I'm so conscious every time I swear on my blog, but irl, I'm a damn fucking sailor (that was even hard for me to type!). I got grounded from brownies for a month when I was in the second grade for sending a note to a classmate dripping with trucker talk (the Abraham Lincoln ditty, if you know it) and got pulled off the bus in 5th grade (by the back of my neck) because I called a teacher a 'bitch' on my way out the door (she was!!). My step-father (#1) used to insert fuck into the middle of words - 'you just don't underfuckingstand' - or in more accurate new england phonetics 'you just don't undahfuckinstand'.

While I adore the word fuck, my all time favorite is cunt. I don't know why, I think there is just no other word that holds that much power, yk?

My partner and I both swear in front of Bub, but we are better at censoring ourselves - his first swear was motherfucker and I'll leave the pride of that to his other mother as it's her favorite phrase for whatever happens to not be going her way (stubs her toe 'motherfucker', potatoes boil over 'motherfucker', the president is giving yet another state of the union 'motherfucker').

Ah - thanks for yet another fucking great post!

[Kristen]

Fuck yeah! The older I get, the more I use the F word. In fact, I think I could correlate my use of it with the birth and growth of my children. Coincidence? I don't fucking think so.

I actually don't say it around them, though, amazingly. My husband gets an ear full when they're in bed.

[roo]

Yeah, I fucking love swearing. The percussion of those fricatives (frickin' fricatives!) is so deeply satisfying in times of stress-- like scratching an itchy mind.

My parents never got uptight about words, as long as I knew when they were appropriate (i.e.-- with family or by myself) and when they weren't (i.e.-- when the Pastor came to visit.)

Once, I worked as a counselor at a theatre day camp, and had to find substitutes for all my bad words. It took me about a month to quit saying, "Gosh!" when the job was over.

[kim]

Fuck. Aah. That felt good. That's the censored life with a two year old.

[Kristina Chew]

Taboo talk for taboo subjects as the need calls----

[kim]

OMG, you are so fuuucking funny. NOt just the swearing, the whole post. And can I say what you said to me the other day how you used to salute people when they left your store? That's the funniest thing I ever heard. More than the swearing is the funniness of this post. You are so fucking fucked up. Fuck.

[Jane]

Saying "what the fuck?!" when a place is closed is a biggy on my list. Unless I'm really pissed then I go with "What in THE (thee) fuck!" Then, of course, a big sigh at how tough it all is. So far the kids haven't said it. Phew.

[Laura]

You know, posting an 80s picture might spawn copycat blogs everywhere, and to be perfectly honest, no one needs to see my pseudo-mullet, and my mascara only on the top eyelashes. (8th grade was hell. Pure hell.)

However, swearing is brilliant. My husband is notorious for this, and the kids had started to pick up on it until I started challenging them to use more creative words. Things like malcontent. Which has created some interesting moments in our house. "Mom! G. is being facetious to me!!" And I do have my moments of potty-mouth-ness. There is nothing quite as satisfying as letting that string of "FUCK!"s out in a big long breath.

And I am glad you aren't disappointed anymore.

[Christine]

Re: the new part of your post -- Our kids aren't the only ones on a spectrum. I think all of humanity is a spectrum of sorts. We all have the same basic ingredients but some have a little more of this and others more of that. That's what I like so much about reading the other autism blogs -- each speaks to me in an entirely different way. It's all good.

Re: the cussing --- I just can't do it (except when I'm really, really, really mad). Why? Because I always hear my mother's voice in the back of my head. Who let her in here, anyway?

[octoberbabies]

I LOVE this!!! I curse like a sailor as does Guy. When I'm running around the house picking up toys and letting my anxiety get the best of me he calls out "Come sit on my lap, motherfucker!!"

And all is well with the world again.

:-)
Sal.

[Felicity]

I think I read & commented on this the first time 'round? But let me fucking reiterate here: I love to cuss. I swear like a damn sailor and I am PROUD of it. My kids curse and I admonish them and we put coins in a jar for swearing (ha! in theory, anyhow) but that's more due to the SPIRIT of the cussing. If we're being mean, that is, if Pippy is telling me that I am a "fucking bitch" and she's angry and she means it, I want coins in the jar. However if she bangs her shin into the coffee table and says, oh, I don't know, "Goddamn piss shit", that's OK.

[candace]

Fuck yeah!

I'm a curser, too, much to my son's dismay. Sometimes I'll accidentally let one slip (when I'm really mad) and he'll say, "Mom! You said a bad word!" Yes, yes I did. *That's* how mad I am.

Then there's my daughter. One day she, very casually, said, "Oh, damn." And she was sitting right next to me on the couch! I looked at her and said, "Sophie! That's a bad word!" and she, in her brilliance, said, "I'll just say it in my head, then. No one else will hear it!"

Can't argue with that logic.

[knq]

I love how your parents gave you the one minute thing. I may have to do that.

I have a huge potty mouth - which is strongly cleaned out around my daughter, but at night time, wooooo baby, every other word is fuck this or fuck that.

It is very therapeutic.

And it's your blog, you can do whatever the HELL you want.

PS: I'm dying for your 80s picture. When you get a chance, that is :)