Wednesday, January 20, 2010

It's because I need some assignments or something already.

Dear Patrick,
I've neglected you for too long. And i have a long list of excuses why. One excuse is, I am, for the first time ever, actually thinking about New Year's Resolutions. Shut up. I know it's the 20th but it's still January and I'm still serious. So I wasn't going to write a post until I had an actual list. It's still in the works. Another excuse is that I have had so many weird, disjointed things happening in my life that I was afraid that the post would be so hard to string everything together to make a coherent post. But then I thought, it's never bothered me before, and I've never had a logical flow of ideas written out here, so why should I start now? I can not and I will not. But my best excuse is that I've had nothing to do. And when I have nothing to do I do nothing.

Sometimes I get self conscious about the people who read this blog. Almost to the point where I don't want to say all the things I want to say. But then a few months ago I went back and read a whole bunch of my previous posts and decided this web log is so much better than a journal because not only do I remember what was happening in my own life, I also get the commentary from other people. Like Shelby calling me Simba every once in a while or Mallory telling me about her "moonwalking wonderboy" of a son. So, take it as you will, but this is the unadulterated narration of my life, right here on this blog.

Lately I've been concerned that there is a tattoo on my forehead that can only be seen by married people. It reads "PLEASE, everyone, set me up with anyone you have." I'm not quite sure where this came from or who is responsible for this dirty joke but the fact is, the tattoo is there and it has become more noticeable within the last month. I can't get it off because I can't see it. I can't say no to the dates because I'm scared of offending everyone. It's not personal, but I don't want to date your mom's best friend's son. I don't want to date your husband's old mission companion. I don't want to date the guy who delivers your pizza. And I certainly don't want to date the nice boy who you've known for years and the only reason you want to set me up with him is because you can't date him yourself. I am aware that I'm single and nearing the age where a good Mormon girl in Utah becomes repulsive without a ring on her finger, but I think I'm going to risk it. I don't like blind dates. I don't like small talk. I'm tired of trying to politely respond to, "Can you even get a job with that degree?" or "What could possibly take 3 years to learn in art?" or "I wish I had a fun major like you". I promise I usually don't cry myself to sleep at night wishing to be married to your cousin's roommate. I just don't. Honestly, I'm quite content with the way my life is being lived right now. And I think I'll be just fine choosing the boys all by myself.

I had more to say about things that aren't connected to the things I've said, but I can't get my one track mind away from this now. So the end.



Love, Adrienne