Is My Name Nancy Botwin?

If you're wondering why I haven't posted in a while, it's for the simple reason that life likes to crap on me. In fact, lately it seems this is my sole purpose in life.

I was watching Weeds earlier this evening, and I sat there watching Nancy Botwin get screwed and worked over until it looks as though she can't stand anymore. She finally learns to manage her current crappy situation with steady hands, however 5 seconds later life dumps a pile of crap on her door (or a trunk of cocaine in her garage).

I thought, "Why does this happen to her? Why can't everyone in her life simply recognize that this is not the time to fuck with her, and perhaps they should just let her do what she planned to do. And more importantly, why am I crying when this is supposed to be a comedy?"

Then it hit me. I am Nancy. Every time I learn to handle one thing and survive just one more day to get through whatever is going on, life hits me with another slam. From the repercussions of being unable to turn people down, to finals, to death, to contact with an estranged parent, life dumps more pain on top of bills on top of work for me to figure out and frankly I'm sick of it. I'm done with this crap that is my life and yet I don't know how to get out.

Image by txusger via Flickr

I'm out of ideas and suggestions. I can't look to the real Nancy for suggestions because her answers only seem to get her in more trouble.

So I'm sitting here waiting... for the show to play out. And Nancy better have a fucking nice happy ending. That's all I have got to say.