I’ve been thinking about writing something for a few weeks. But I’ve got nothing. I could complain about boredom and poverty. But that’s weak. It’s February, who isn’t bored and poor? No one I want to associate with, that’s for sure.
Everything in my life right now is good and quiet. And I like that. But I for the first time ever, I’ve started to miss that university life that was both awesome and awful. I miss being a little proud that I only went out twice that week or the luxury of visiting my friends while wearing my pajamas. I don’t miss the feeling that my life hadn’t started and that tuition equaled guilt when I spent anything.
I miss high school sometimes too. I miss that my sole responsibility was my bedroom and I miss worrying about a biology test. I miss the memorization and I miss walking my dog. I miss hating my part time job and having the time to hate my part time job.
This is so cliché, I’m considering deleting the previous two paragraphs. I’m two years into my job, post-university, and I’m romanticizing my previous life. To further illustrate my point, I just spent twenty minutes on iTunes debating buying a “90s Movie Music.” Urgh, I hate nostalgia. I did buy Eagle-Eye Cherry’s “Save Tonight” though, because I’m still waiting to marry Ethan Hawke (who is gross and impregnated his nanny). To counter my last statement, however, I bought a few Annie Lennox songs too. I don’t think she’d impregnate her nanny. She’d just teach her to break out of gyno-traditional roles and then maybe make-out with her. I’d make-out with Annie Lennox (I hope she’s reading this).
For Lent I gave up candy and restaurant/take-out food. Both of these are quick-fix/convenience crutches and I’m hoping to be a better person by avoiding them. I’m also trying to enjoy the daily stuff more. When I was younger (see paragraphs two through three) I was that person. I rationalized that folding laundry allowed to me watch mind-numbing reality shows. Doing dishes was good because my chronically cold hands were momentarily warm. And, making lunches was so very June Cleaver of me and, therefore, delightful.
And then I started to work way too much and I began to resent anything that wasn’t free time. I became clumsy at everything and the profanity during my chores grew exponentially. So, I’m trying to get back there. I think I may have been a nicer person during that time too. To help matters, I do have the most clingy, co-dependent dog ever and so I’ve got a companion for all my chores. When he’s forced to remain on the floor, versus cradled in my arms, he finds it comforting to sit on my foot so to be alerted if I decide to leave the country. However, he prefers to carried during most activities so I’ll be forced to emigrate with him and so that he can bite at my face. He’s a stunning parallel to myself as a child. My poor parents.
I really want a to buy a dog snuggly, but Ryan won’t let me.
favorited this one, bro