Relationships

How to say this without coming off as bitchy... Okay. In a way, I'm happy for you that you have found someone you can love and who loves you in return. That is fantastic. Good for you. I'm glad that you are happy. But beyond that very thin layer of glee is a genuine indifference. Honestly, I could not care less about the cute thing your boyfriend did or the adorable way your girlfriend laughs. It's meaningless to me.

As far as relationships go, I am only really mildly interested in the beginning wooing stage. I find that initial phase of attraction and timidness to be fascinating. Once a "couple" element is established, I couldn't be less interested. I'm not even really that happy for you that you're in a relationship because it's not really that earth shattering. I mean, again, I'm glad that you're happy but being in a relationship is not an accomplishment.

I am not in a relationship. However, if I wanted to, I could be in one pretty easily; I've had offers. I don't want to be in a relationship, though, just because I don't want to be alone or I want affection. All of my close friends are in a relationship, save one or two. I am constantly having coupled-om shoved in my face. People completely lose themselves in their partner and it's agonizing to be around, half the time. Some of my friends are married and that is acceptable to deal with. The wooing and matrimonial stages are about the only stages that peek my interest.

This whole little rant has been brought on because it seems like everyone I know is in a relationship and they won't stop talking about it. They don't even address or refer to their partners by name, anymore. It's all my girlfriend and my boyfriend. It's possessive and private and does not need to be plastered all over my Facebook news feed. This is no exaggeration: nearly every other post is someone gushing about their better half. I get it. People are excited and happy and this that and the other. Again, I am glad that you are happy. I guess my point is, being in a relationship is really only riveting to the people in it. I'm happy for you but not as happy as you are about it. With that being said, if I don't seem to care about what you have to say about your relationship, it's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm not interested. There's a difference.

Tickle me green; I'm too naive.

So, today I went to Trader Joe's to pick up my weekly supplies. It was a nice visit. Thanksgiving's approach has the isles packed with agitated shoppers. What I love most about this time of year -- at the store, that is -- is the abundance of cranberry products. It's fantastic. One of the lovely workers, there, suggested that I might enjoy the goat cheese with cranberries. Next time, I intend to try it. For now, I will stick to my usual brie with cranberries and raisins.

On the way home, I plugged my iPod in and listened to the superb stylings of one Mr. Johnny Flynn. My lovely boy from London. I highly recommend you check it out if you haven't already experienced the splendor. Well, I guess I should get to work on... well, I'll find something to do. Maybe I'll cook. Or do laundry. Yes, I think I'll clean something.

Have a good evening.

Crackling fire and "window shopping."

I was surfing around Urban Outfitter, today so, naturally, I found things that I love and might even need. However, due to a lack of funds, dreams will remain as such.

I'm hungry. Eggplant humus, pumpernickel pretzels and chamomile tea, anyone?

Surveyism.

1. Where is your cell phone: On the side table next to me.
2. Your hair: Messy and tousled. Pretty par for the course.
3. Your favorite food: Dressing. Or stuffing, depending on your definition.
4. Your dream from last night: That I wasn't friends with one of my friends but I was trapped on her driveway.
5. Your favorite drink: Tea.
6. Your dream/goal: I want to meet someone, fall in love, and have a baby. How out of character, for me.
7. What room are you in: The living room.
8. What are your hobbies: writing, reading, scrapbooking, embroidering, and jewelry making.
9. What is your fear: Spiders.
10. Where do you want to be in 6 years: In love.
11. Where were you last night: Home.
12. Something you are not: Sure.
13. Muffins: Are delicious and slightly adorable.
15. Where did you grow up: Oakley.
16. Last thing you did: Made tea.
17. What are you wearing: White Nike t-shirt and baggy blue sweat pants.
18. Your TV: Is stupid and broken.
19. Your pets: A Maltese and a Pomeranian.
20. Your friends: Are pretty sweet. And fertile.
21. Your favorite store: Vintage anything.
22. Your favorite color: Gray.

I could use some Gatorade.

Today (Wednesday) is my first day at a new school. I'm a bit nervous but, I am hoping things go well. I am just taming my mind with excessive watchings of How I Met Your Mother aka my favorite show!

Well, NPH is on.

Ashley out.

Ma talked me down.

So I talked to my mother about my concerns of voyeurism and she informed me that that is a natural part of growing up... as you get older, you automatically show up in all sorts of databases; there's not a whole lot you can do to avoid it. I don't like it, but I must adapt.

Tonight is the season premiere of How I Met Your Mother and my heart is singing. This week is full of season premieres which is calming me slightly for the start of school, on Wednesday. I'm nervous.

Within the next three or four months, I am going to try to make it back to Texas for a week or two. I love the south during fall/winter.

Anyway, bye.

Big Brother.

Okay. So -- for whatever reason -- I decided to Google myself. I wasn't actually expecting any real results; however, I found myself. Not only did I find myself IMMEDIATELY, there is a site that shows my full name, my phone number, who lives in my house, and actually has my address and an areal view of my address!

I have no idea how this information was acquired and how it was organized. I am so startled, right now. I have this awful ominous feeling like someone posted my personal information in order to harm me. Like in high school when someone does something shady to someone else to cause problems for them. I feel like someone made a fake myspace page for me or something and is talking to people and giving out my phone number. I am half expecting random phone calls from people like my information was put on Craig's List.

I HATE the internet.

I am 7,635 days old.

John Lancaster Spalding once said that "each forward step we take we leave some phantom of ourselves behind."

I'm finding that as time passes, I am recognizing the subtle differences in myself. I feel like a completely different person, now, then I was six months ago. I remember who I was, before; like a memory of an old friend. Sometimes I think about how I used to respond to situations and how I would respond to the very same, now. It's strange... for some reason I always thought that change was too subtle or gradual to be noticed by the one changing. Like when you haven't seen someone in a long time and they say how different you look but you don't notice the differences because you're too close... you're used to it.

I have more responsibilities now because of school and my work but I feel more in control. Emotionally, I feel lighter. I feel older. Grown. Much more mature than I was last year. And one thing I'm noticing about myself now that I am aware of these differences: I don't have much to say, anymore.

Mindless drivvle.

I can't wait til it cools down. It's hot and the heat makes me tired. Also, I want to go camping and I don't like camping in the summer because it's too hot.

My birthday is next month. It's my 21st. I don't have anything planned and I probably won't make any. I've never placed much importance on birthdays.

Issues with school administration is consuming my life, these days. Everything else is falling to the way side and it's making me grumpy. I guess that's it.

I asked for video games for my birthday;

just a little FYI.



I want a scanner so I can post my environmentalist public service announcements that preach to the ill logic of environmentalism in forward thinking and liberalism. I'm actually waiting on hate mail from Peta.

I wrote a poem this morning which I dubbed Insecure Narcissist. Also, I think I am going to design the artwork for my book(s); it will give me an extra something to do and maybe release some sort of creative energy I didn't know I was harboring.

And I shall leave you with this: I devoted a section of my heart to Neil Patrick Harris.