Currently listening to: Patty Griffin
Currently eating: Life cereal
Currently reading: Captivating
Oh blog world, here we are again. It's a hot and muggy summer night. I just got off of work. Smell like coffee, have tired feet, and am excited to sleep. But I thought I would pay a visit to you and search for a few words before I sleep.
Too many people are taking Beyonce's advice. If you are reading this, a friend of mine, under 23 years of age, and are about to get engaged or married, please don't. Spare my sanity. Be kind to my singleness. If you like it, don't you dare put a ring on it. I think all my friends Facebook messaged each other, planning to change their relationship status at the same time. Infact, maybe I'll change mine. Everyone's doing it. The good thing about having 7,890 weddings to go to this next year is hopefully I will stay skinny and tan with a few cute dresses in the closet. That's the attitude, Liz.
While we are on the topic of attraction-like things, I would like to discuss crushes. No matter how old you get or mature you feel in the dating arena, crushes always make you feel like a 13-year-old pre-teen. There is nothing sophisticated or cool about them; they are unmasterable, leaving everyone absolutely vulnerable and inexperienced once again. Crushes make you blush and nervous, having conversations in your head, trying to talk yourself out of liking the person. You feel dumb at the fact that you overanalyze and jump to conclusions too quickly (maybe just the female species). And here's the trouble: drawing the line. When do you decide the potentiality of a relationship is unrealistic? When do you admit the crush to someone else? Because the moment you say something, it jinxes the whole situation. And the moment to realize you might just like a person, it changes the next day and you find that his friend is cute too. I mean, come on. 'Mize well put my braces back on and scrunchi in my hair for as young as these things make you act/feel.
Meanwhile, I have discovered that dishes are my most disliked chore. When I am eating soup with a fork and a green film gathers on my bowls, I reluctantly take the pile to the sink to scrub, scrub, and scrub some more. Maybe my husband will like doing dishes.
Thanks for reading, friend. I am leaving cyber space for the evening. Will talk later.
P.S. Don't read into this crush thing. I am not dating anyone or anything of the sort. No freak out texts please.
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