I wanted today’s blog entry to talk about exhibiting at Wicked Comic Con this weekend. I wanted to talk about comic book shows in general, and have it become a hopefully insightful reflection of comics as a genre and a medium.
But no. Today’s blog entry is not about that because my wife and I had a really rough day with my son yesterday, on his first day of spring break vacation, and we’re both so aggravated with him that we can’t think straight.
I should warn you that the rest of this is just aggravated venting. There will be no profound reflection on the nature of parenthood or speculation on the mind of an eight-year-old testing boundaries. I’m just annoyed and I’m going to vent. It might be in all caps.
It will be in all caps.
THAT FREAKING KID JESUS HAROLD CHRIST THERE WASN’T ONE THING HE DIDN’T PUSH BACK ON OR GIVE US ATTITUDE ABOUT AND WE HAD TO ASK HIM NICELY SIX OR SEVEN TIMES TO DO LITERALLY ANYTHING AND MOST OF THE TIME HE WAS ACTIVELY IGNORING US LIKE IS IT SO FUCKING HARD TO PUT YOUR SHOES ON
Okay. I might be done. No.
I TRY NOT TO BE ONE OF THOSE PARENTS WHO YELLS ALL THE TIME BUT I ONLY HAVE SO MUCH PATIENCE WHEN I ASK HIM NICELY TO STOP DOING SOMETHING LIKE THROWING HIS TOYS OR PUSHING AROUND THE BOXES I’M TRYING TO ADDRESS FOR MY KICKSTARTER BACKERS AND HE JUST KEEPS DOING IT WHILE LOOKING RIGHT AT ME LIKE I THINK I’M JUSTIFIED IN RAISING MY VOICE IN THAT SITUATION FUCK
…okay. Now I’m done for real.
I wish I had something insightful to take away from this, other than if I didn’t get that out of my system I wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything else. Okay, so one thing. Venting is important for some people, like me. I need to get pent-up frustration out and put it somewhere before it builds up and explodes in a direction it doesn’t need to go in. So there’s that.
FUCK.