A Pirate’s Life for meeeee…..

Turning 50 makes you do weird shit. In my case it sent me spiraling down a rabbit hole of depression that made the year before look like an after prom pity party. I don’t know how to express the life long frustration of battling depression. It has been written about extensively and eloquently by better writers than me. But I can tell you that the most precious thing it robs you of is time.

I shouldn’t have taken that Xanax with tequila.


And like Rip Van Winkle you wake from the fog and find that life has passed you by. And so I awoke with a semi useless degree, a totally terrifying president, and my estrogen draining away at an alarming rate.

Turn down the lights darling. I am much cuter in the dark.

I have been working at two easy, lazy dead end jobs with school as an excuse for several years. One at a deli that is on death watch, and the other as a bartender at a fraternal order.

Ugh. This is pretty much the worst of all service industry cliches. An old woman behind the bar, pouring bourbon and beer for a bunch of old men because no place else will have her anymore. This gal never really retires.  She works until her body gives out or until the place shuts down. Eventually she and her social security end up in a trailer where she collects cans for poker money, and some nice lady from the order she worked at for a thousand years takes her out to bingo or brings her a bag of groceries.

As you can see this is not really a joke. 

And don’t get me wrong some of these old gals are fabulous. Some may even have been smart enough to sock away some cash. If the woman in this picture is still alive she is probably whooping it up in Reno and would at the very least give me a much deserved middle finger after reading my description. I had just hoped and expected more from myself.

Then a dear friend of mine went to work on a cruise ship. Its hard work he said But the money is fantastic! He likes to exaggerate about money. I know this. Aaaand I signed up anyway. It can’t be that bad right? Six weeks on two weeks off. Three months off in the winter. What can go wrong?



Yeah….I know. But its change, am I right folks? Sometimes you have to do something dramatic in order to shake things up.  So I am taking charge and grabbing life by the balls. I am sure The Captain would be proud. He would also bet on me jumping ship within a week.







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