All I want to do is curl up on my couch and watch chick flicks. Or horror movies. I could go for either. Instead I'm about to go sit through two and a half hours of art history. But yes, I have finally managed to change out of sweats and into jeans. At 3:30 in the afternoon. Shut up.
There's a reason I don't say things right away. Maybe I'm not ready to deal with it myself, let alone have you try to deal with it.
So yes, something's wrong. No, it isn't you. It's me. Kind of.
So it's Thanksgiving, and everyone is saying what they are thankful for. I mean really, it is tradition. And while I would rather not be up at 8 o'clock on a day that I don't have to be, here I am...
I'm thankful for my family. They're crazy and loud, and perfect. I can't wait to be at my mother's spending time with my Great Aunt Betsey. I'm thankful for my friends, many of whom I consider family. I don't know where I would be without them. And I really don't want to know. I'm thankful for all of the opportunities I've been given. I'm thankful for someone who makes me smile everyday. Really I can't even express all of the things I'm thankful for. But I think you get the idea.
Yeah, it had to happen. And now I'm going to go knit. Yes, I am a little old lady, so what? And really what else is there to do in the morning?
I am capable of baiting my own hook, but I would rather have someone else do it for me. I have a collection of teacups. I am almost incapable of folding a fitted sheet—my Great-Grandmother would be devastated.
Playing guitar only works if you can also sing, playing piano is more impressive. I can be extremely selfish, but if I care about you I will do anything in my power for you. One of my best friends is a guy, I tell him things I should probably only tell my girl friends. I buy movies that I’ve never seen before with the hope that I will love them.
I only really like crispy french fries.
I’m awful at packing, and I will always pack too much. I just like to be prepared. I love being kissed on the forehead. And when guys hold doors open for me. When a guy can drive a stick shift I find it incredibly sexy.
I will never have an interest in playing golf. Although, I don’t mind watching.
I’m going to grow my hair out this winter. Well, I’m going to try.
I’m perfectly happy to sit on the couch knitting for hours, as long as music is on. My cats are extremely important to me, but it scares me that I could potentially have them into my late thirties. I love live music, it doesn’t even really matter what it is. I’m an extremely sexual person.
If I’m interested in you, I will just want to sit and look at you. It’s the only time that sitting in silence really doesn’t bother me.
I've written about you. In fact my draft folder is filled with posts about you right now. I write about you when you go back to sleep in the morning or when I'm just watching you from across the room. I just haven't published them, haven't wanted people to actually read them. That's the thing, I have this blog to share my thoughts, and to share my ordinary day, but sometimes what I write is more for me. I need to figure out what's in my head. To put things down before I forget them, or they don't seem important. And the thought of someone saying what's important to me isn't important at all, well it just sucks.
So here it is. I like sitting next to you on the couch while you're playing video games and you're yelling at the TV. I like that you try to explain the game to me, although I'm pretty sure you realize that I have like no clue what you're talking about. And I like watching you play chess, whether you win or lose... although you were pretty cute when you won. I like just doing nothing with you in the morning. I like that you actually enjoyed watching Juno. I like that you pretend to be offended when I call you sweet, because you want to be the tough guy. I like that you make me laugh, constantly. And I like that you'll read this, and that you are trying to read it right now as I'm writing.
So here it is. Don't think the reason I hadn't written about you was because I didn't want to. I was worried you wouldn't want me to write about you. Or that if I did write about you, you wouldn't like what I said. So maybe one day all of the posts in my draft folder will come out, or maybe I'll just save them so I can read them, but either way... know that they are there.
I got really excited yesterday when I remembered the opportunity to gain an extra hour of sleep... yet somehow I woke up at 6 something this morning. Damn. Next year. At least it gives me some time with my google reader since it's gone over 500 again. Yeah, what can I say... I have issues, and not enough hours in the day.
I don't know why I'm scared to be happy... That isn't something I should be feeling at nineteen. But at this point in my life every time I find something that makes me happy, something else tends to go wrong. Now, Don't get me wrong I'm still acting like a giddy 12 year-old girl, but I can't help but to worry like my 40 year-old self. It's weird. I know. I guess that, like with most things, only time will tell.
I really didn't intend to write such a downer post. I'll work on a happy and exciting one soon. Maybe
I'm a college student, living life one day at a time.
Recent Comments