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I’m very afraid of getting older.
I have no home. I’m at that age where I’m just starting to realize, I have no home. College is my home I suppose, for the next year or so anyway, and then I’m off in the real world and I’ll have a house. But not a home.
Until I get married and settle down and become a real person. I have to make my own home. But that’s sooooo much responsibility. And this time I would be the head of the household, you lose out on all the great benefits. No rent, free food, whatever you want prepared for you! I like being the child, I like being cared for.
Some people say men aren’t looking for wives, they’re just looking for someone to replace their mothers. That’s probably true to an extent for some men. Mothers are great. I’ve said before, I think in general relationships serve an important purpose, and to a degree, that purpose is to replace their families. Not replace, per say, but to regrow a family, and recreate that loving environment, or for those with more unfortunate childhoods, create for the first time.
But at this very young age I think I shall try to create a home with just myself. I think I can feel at home by myself. It’s quite a feat, but if I stay social enough I think it’s possible. Someday home will be where I keep my kids and husband, but for today, home is where the food is.
Time has a funny influence over us. It matters so much without saying or doing or being anything but this abstract concept.
Like marriage. Marriage isn’t scary because it’s a commitment. A relationship alone is a commitment. Marriage can be scary because it’s a time commitment. It’s promising not just today and tomorrow, but every tomorrow for the rest of your life. The concept of so much time can be terrifying. You worry it will drag on forever and become monotonous and boring.
Another terifying concept is the thought of too little time. Then everything seems a whole lot better. Suddenly you appreciate things more, see them in a better light because you realize you may never experience these things again.
Maybe it’s not about time at all. Maybe it’s just about beginnings and ends.
Hey all,
I’m sorry. I know you’ve all been eagerly awaiting my dating advice. You’ve probably broken up by now due to my lack of attention and for that I apologize. But I have returned.
I’ve been having some internet technical difficulties lately, explaining the lack of posts for the past couple days. I suspect Josh311 (the name of the wireless internet I’ve been stealing for the last few days) is on to me and has broken up with me. He has unfortunately severed all connections. My heart mourns. But I will go on.
And today is a brand new day and I have found a new guy to hook up with. NETGEAR572. And he’s twice the man you’ll ever be, Josh. Three times the man when streaming video.
A woman on the bus was very mean to me today. She had her stuff on the seat next to her and all the other seats were taken except for the ones reserved for the elderly and disabled. I don’t like sitting in those seats because invariably, the moment I do, an elderly or disabled person comes on the bus, and of all the perfectly functioning 20-somethings on the bus sitting in those seats, I’m the only one to move.
So I ask her politely to move her things and she says “Well I really don’t want to, especially when there are other seats available…” (referring to the ones for the handicapped).
It took everything I had to hold back from saying, “I know but you just seemed like such a lovely person that I wanted to sit next to you.”
But I didn’t say that. And she did move her stuff. So I guess everything worked out. But still, she didn’t have to be rude just cause she wanted her umbrella to have its own seat on the bus. Fifty years ago African American people couldn’t even sit on the bus. Rosa Parks had to represent. Bus seats are a hot commodity. I think that people from every color race and creed should have a seat on the bus. But when it comes to umbrellas, I make no allowances.
So, what does this have to do with relationships?
Well I’ll tell you.
People are mean and cranky.
The end.
Hormones are a funny thing. When you break it down to find love and hate and happiness and saddness is due in part to chemicals in the brain, you have to ask, what happens when these chemicals go crazy? What happens when our hormones freak out?
And when you’re a woman, this can be a common occurrence. Ah yes, the burdens of womanhood. Thanks, Adam and Chava. The price we pay for liking fruit.
So currently I am going insane and most people make me want to cry. My boyfriend can’t seem to understand what he’s doing wrong and doesn’t believe me when I say “Nothing” and then storm off in a huff. This soon shall pass.
But for all my complaints, when a man’s hormones go out of whack (which is usually a medical condition) they stop feeling all together. They don’t feel happy, they don’t feel sad. I once heard an interview with a man who had a temporary testosterone deficiency. He just didn’t want anything. He was terribly uninterested in everything. He was never happy, but never sad. Just very complacent. He said at times he would just stare at a wall, not feeling anything inparticular.
But he still thought everything was beautiful. And that’s a really wonderful thing to think about. That at the heart of it all, without any chemical influence, everything really is beautiful.
My girlfriend Sammie is in love. It’s great, I’m really happy for her. I just wish she would shut up about it sometimes.
It’s not that I mind hearing about it, it’s not that I don’t care about knowing that his favorite color is yellow and when he was 12 he played with trucks; it’s not that I’m not interested in the fact that last Tuesday he said the word “bologna” in a British accent and she thought it was funny; it’s not even that ten minutes after gushing about how great he is she’ll go into a diatribe about how he’s a jerk for talking to his friends instead of her that one time.
And I really don’t care that no matter WHAT we talk about, absolutely everything will inevitably lead back to him.
“Hey Sammie, have you been to the new restaurant downtown?”
“No but Aaron went last week!”
“Sammie I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE!”
“Oh no way! Aaron goes to college!”
“Hey Sammie, did you know carrots used to be purple?”
“Aaron hates the color purple.”
I don’t mind it. I really don’t care. She can gush all she wants. It’s just, that sometimes, I want to gush too. And I can’t cause I’m too busy pretending to sound at all interested in every detail of what Aaron had for lunch. I just want to scream,
“SHUT UP…..So I can tell you what Jack had for lunch.”
My relationship with food does a good job of summing up my relationships with people.
I find a food. I fall in love with that food. It’s love at first bite. I want to eat nothing but that food, and I do, because I have absolutely no self-discipline.
Lately it’s been yogurt. I just think it’s fantastic, I can’t get enough of it. It’s healthy, it helps me digest, it tastes delicious, it’s refreshing when it’s frozen. I can see nothing bad about yogurt. I’m this way with new boyfriends too. I put them on a pedestal, idealize them, glorify their every quality. What’s that you say? You like peanuts? Oh my god, you’re so awesome. You guys, he likes peanuts. We’re so gonna get married.
And so it begins, one thing leads to another, and then, if you play all your cards right, you are relationshipped. Screw other foods. All you want to do is eat nothing but yogurt.
Sometimes friends will call me and say, “Come on, let’s go out for dinner! We can go to a nice restaurant!” And I’d love to see my friends, but the truth is, I don’t want to go to a restaurant when I can just stay in and eat yogurt. I have yogurt right here, it’s accessible, I already paid for it. Yogurt is the food I’m craving. Why would I waste money on something I don’t even want to eat? Why would I go to the bars when I could just send yogurt a text message and he’d come right over?
Not many restaurants serve yogurt, ya know? Not for dinner, anyway.
I have no desire to try other foods when I have yogurt. It’s everything I want. But just like relationships, food can’t just be based on what you want. It also has to fulfill what you need. You can’t get all your nutrients from yogurt, just like you can’t fulfill all your social needs with one person.
Another bad thing about eating yogurt for every meal is that no matter how much you love it, no matter how convinced you are that your feelings will never dwindle…Eventually, you’re gonna get sick of yogurt. You’re gonna start eyeing the hummus, throwing winks at the potato salad, maybe even calling pizza over for a night. And yogurt’s not gonna stop calling. It’s just gonna sit there in the back of the fridge taking up space and being annoying until you dump it.
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