sincerely, me

I am not very good at making friends. This might have to do with how I categorize the people I meet. I don't count too many people as my friends. Also, I'm not great at talking to strangers. And that's what people are until they become friends, right? Anyway. I'll start now. How To: Make Friends Step 1: You have to leave your room. Hm. Step 2: You have to talk to other people. Well. Step 3: You have to really talk to other people. And that is why I'm writing this. The how-to is kind of a joke. Which may not have come across. Anyway, I've recently been getting to know someone new, and it's made me realize how much I know. Random things about random people that I've somehow just picked up along the way. What they like, what they don't like. Life is full of those little moments, oh, yeah, my sister would love this, my friend and I were just talking about that, he mentioned this to me yesterday. It's my favorite thing abou...

I asked my sister once about her dependence on other people. When I was younger and feeling badly, I would tell my dad my stomach hurt or my head hurt or I felt sick, and he would say, Ok. What do you want me to do? This always felt like a dismissal of my pain, which sounds worse than it felt. I combined this with my annoyance at my sister's insistence that we know every scratch and scrape she got, and have since pretty much ignored when I'm feeling badly. The physical pain I've felt has always been fairly easy to ignore, or to alleviate with over the counter drugs. (Emotional pain, I'm finding, is an entirely different monster.) I think this tendency has something to do with my current taste for independence. I don't like to count on people for things. I don't feel like I can, for one, and I feel like I can do most things on my own anyway. I can certainly make dinner for myself, do my own laundry, clean the apartment, look for apartments, lift that box, pay...

Lately I've been wondering why anyone besides people who actually know me would ever want to read or keep up with this blog. And then I get on YouTube and watch video after video of other girls telling me about themselves. So maybe I do get it, at least on a general level why someone would want to read all about a girl they don't know. And hopefully, I'm interesting enough not to make you regret it. It's the connection that we all crave to know someone else, as well as possibly the feeling that comes from knowing someone feels the same way you do. As I've said before, it never really makes me feel better, and I don't understand why it should, to know that someone feels as miserable, sad, or angry as I do. It just seems pretty self concerned to feel better because someone else is miserable. But knowing things about people feels good. I can't explain why, though I spend an inordinate amount of my thinking time wondering why. The point is, it's nice to kn...

Guys. It's been five years. ! To celebrate, I'm going to give you a list of all of my favorite posts of all time! And you should give me yours. But if you go too far back, the writing is nowhere near as good. Don't say I didn't warn you. For everyone who has read all of my blog (which is probably two of you), thank you!! For everyone who hasn't read all of my blog, and who maybe just started reading, thank you!! Anyway, check these out. The Men of My Dreams. This is a long one, probably the longest, but I really enjoyed writing it. Solid Walrus Sound. This is about habits and breaking them. God Hates No One. This is about something that's very important. I hope I do it justice. Something You Miss . This is about growing up. A Love Affair?  This is about poetry and how I love to use it to express myself. "It Could Happen to You"  And this is the one that started it all.

I loved my childhood. It wasn't perfect. I didn't always get along with my siblings or my grandma (who lived with us from the time we were really young until Dad got remarried when I was 14), and the start of it was not ideal. I don't remember much about that part of it, but I've heard stories. Not that I was mistreated or anything. As far as I know, we were always loved and wanted. But there was some drama between my parents, so as far back as I can remember, I've never known them together. I never felt the loss or any hope that they might get together. Maybe I did, and I just don't remember. So that I don't have to say something like that every time I say anything, let's just assume that what I write may not be fact, but it is how I remember it. If any of the (older) adults in my life want to contest something, feel free. I had two houses growing up. I had Dad's house and Mom's house. Both changed location a few times, but that's what t...