I could

Jul. 19th, 2010 09:49 am
impthefirst: (fluff the ego)
[personal profile] impthefirst
I could sit here and say a lot of things. I suppose. I'm not feeling all that wordy this morning, which isn't all that unusual.  I could rant and rave like some over being told, eons ago, one thing only to have that be negated years later.

But I'm going to save that kind of ranting for stuff that truly annoys the hell out of me or actually hurts. Or for crazy hormonal twists.  Whichever. (You decide?)

Not a lot to update on.  Same old, same old, just a different year.  I'm now 29. I feel old. But not really. I feel like I should feel old, but mostly I just feel not all that accomplished.  Gee, I wonder why.   I'm the same age my grandmother would say she was whenever she was asked, despite the fact that no one had bought that story in quite some time. :P  I am the same age people use as their lie. Weird.  

And what do I have to show for it?  Admittedly awesome hair that needs to be dyed. Other than that and the occasional nephew's love... not a ton.  The fun part is that this only bothers me when I factor in the age thing. OR when I spend too much time around married folks. (Yes. Folks. Deal with it.)  Some couples irk me.  Some do not. I used to think it had to do with how cutesy or lovey dovey they are.  Now I think it's just how bitchy I'm feeling that day, because the same couple I can be fine with one day?  Brings on the inferiority complex the next.

That said, the idea of finding someone to be all sickeningly sweet with isn't all that appealing.  I know.  They aren't going to just fall out of the sky. But since I have since acquired even more trust issues, I have to remind myself that not all people suck.  And that not all people you believed to be worth the risk really are.  Frick to the balance there, eh?

  In the meantime I'll just look forward to the couple of times a month I get to talk to someone who seems even less thrilled with humanity (in a non sociopathic sort of way) than I am.

The good news is that for all the introspection that may or may not be done, or all the times I casually contemplate stabbing someone with a pen (usually at work), I'm usually pretty happy. How odd is that?

Now the mindless chatter is making it impossible to think, let alone type. Which means maybe it's time for a trip to Target.

So, hey!

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