Seems we've been a little remiss in our blog-o-licious duties (I know, I know...I said 'dooty')
What can I say? *sigh* Absolutely nothing, really. I'm at a loss for awesome and envy-inducing excuses, which is a first. I'm usually quite able to conjure up some entertaining anecdote about why I've neglected this or that, but alas, the excuse pot runeth on empty.
I have managed, in the mean time, to liberate myself of the shackles otherwise known as facebook. Whew...that was a tough one. I now understand why there were such groups as "Facebook ruins relationships"... I highly recommend you try it. Deactivating the collection of pseudo-friends, photos and drama is quite cathartic, and I'm hoping it persuades those who actually ARE friends (and not those with whom I haven't spoken in 15 years, adding me simply to populate their already overinflated friends list) to reconnect, instead of relying on the already bullshit-laden thing called the intertubes.
That, and it will give me more time to do other unproductive things, such as spew forth the vitriol bubbling just under the surface the last few months into this blog. Go team.
Anyway, last I recall, I was in the midst of some age-crisis, which has since spawned some sort of existential crisis, which has, in turn, exacerbated some of my more hermit-esque behavior. Yeah....30 sucks. Huge donkey balls. I try not to think about it, else I might start doing the ugly cry. You know...the one where you cry so hard, you think your eyes will pop out, and you have to keep checking for the snot that may or may not be dribbling out of your nose and down your chin. Good times.
This has also spawned my hatred for all things marriage-related. Now being in my 30's, it seems that my own mortality has become a bit of an obsession. Or as asshats would say, my "biological clock is ticking". Having hit cougar-dom, I've finally come to the realization that I'm NOT actually getting any younger. WTF? I mean, I thought I would be able to get away with being an irresponsible tart for at least a little while longer. No such luck, so it seems.And so, everyone around me being the same age group, the baby-and-marriage race is on, because apparently turning, or inching, toward 30 is synonymous with tying yourself down and trading in your super-awesome life for responsible, married parenthood. (is this the biological clock thing?) I did not get this memo.
Don't get me wrong...getting married and having kids is on my list of things to do...eventually, but when did it become about having to trade in the life you worked so hard to make awesome? THAT is why I'm hating all over marriage. Everyone around me is getting engaged, and inevitably the whole "when are you guys going to get hitched" question comes about...meaning we (my boyfriend and I) have officially been entered into this race. I hate that. I never liked the Jones', and didn't have any intention of trying to keep up with them, but apparently, 30 is default age for race entry, like it or not.
I'm content with where my life is right now, almost responsibility-free. But now, there's this strange anxiety floating in the air: me hating that everyone is getting hitched before me (because to be honest, I think every woman feels a small twinge of jealousy when someone she knows, who's been in a relationship far less time than them, gets engaged), yet a quiet rage at not wanting to join this race, for fear that it looks like we're jumping off the same bridge as everyone else, as well as the super-secret rage that my significant other is apparently not completely sold on the idea of spending our lives together, despite being almost a decade into it, while others have jumped in...nay..belly-flopped into it. My answer is usually just to hate things that cause any sort of emotional discomfort... blinding rage...psychotic fucking hatreds, really.
I hate weddings.
I have, on the brighter side of things, managed to start compiling that infamous list of "TO DO's" in my 30th year of life. These are in no real specific order...especially not of preference.
1) Remember that kickass tattoo? Yeah, well, it's finally in the works. I scored pretty big in the B-Day Gift department, and managed to convince people that I know to give me money to get it done, instead of paying it out of my own, moth-infested pockets. Hehe...aw yeah. (Thanks guys! I now like everyone who contributed that much more than the rest of the people I loosely refer to as friends!) The hunt for the tattoo artist that will defile this temple was short, thankfully. Now, time to pony up. Let's hope the person who will torture me for several hours is at least semi-attractive...I can justify it a little better that way. Compromising photos will most likely ensue.
2) Thought I might do some crazy traveling this year. I'd love to go to Europe, but I'm sure my financial planner might say otherwise. I'm hoping that my financial planner won't scold me too severely for a trip to Boston to the Penny Arcade Expo, or to New York for ComicCon in October. Yeah, yeah, yeah...I can hear the mockery already.
3) I have also decided that, even if it kills me, I'm going to finish the degree that I've been made to resort to taking part-time, within this year. Yes, I'm on the 10 year program at University, apparently. By no doing of my own, I might add. Seriously. I'm not so much of a failure that I would extend my shitty BA because I have no motivation...oh no, this is all on the part of the shitty university I'm getting my shitty BA from. But enough about that...emotional discomfort, remember?
So these are the 3 preliminary items... I've got a few more that are still being spit-balled (wow, that sounds like some sort of porno term), which should be posted as they take shape, especially now that I'm not wasting precious blogging time on Facebork.
Next week, we'll run through my psychotic hatreds that revolve around the Christmas season...let's call it the Holiday Special.
Remember kids, there is a difference between 'juice' and 'drink'.
