I had a post all planned out. It was a little morose, because I had a HELLACIOUS morning. Life’s clusterfucks should not be allowed to rear their ugly heads prior to 10:45. So I was roaming around, feeling all blue about this that and the third. (I had only gotten to positive visualization #2 before the morning went to shit.) So I sat at this very computer, and composed the most beautifully worded tale of woe typed by human fingers. Were I able to detach myself from myself, I probably would have given myself some ass after reading it. Such a tender soul is truly deserving of the utmost affection, right? And yet, just as I was about to click “Publish”, I paused and said, “Bitch, you are NOT about to post this shit.” Yes. I call myself a bitch in my inner monologue. I decided to wait until after I ate, and if I was still feeling the same after lunch, I would post it. Thank God for sauteed spinach and grilled chicken.
I’m giving myself 12 months to get it together. So, in honor of my birthday, one of my presents to myself is…myself. I’m giving myself my undivided attention. That includes celibacy, which means, by extension in 2008, I probably won’t be dating. (Mark, I swear if you make one comment, I’m going to hunt you down and make you eat your underwear.) For those who have scoffed, I successfully did this a few years back. I met, and exceeded the allotted time (because, let’s be honest, after you’ve been keeping it to yourself for a year, when that time has elapsed, you don’t exactly fling it off the back of a truck). I remember dating a charming guy during that time, who graciously said, “I respect what you’re doing, and that’s cool, as long as I’m not the only one you’re not giving it to.” That lasted for a couple of weeks. (I’ll give you guys credit. Sometimes, you start out with some really good intentions.)
Today, I finished reading a book that really had me going, until I got to the end. I’m sure I will be quoting it in the coming months, but it kind of took the wind out of my sails. I was really pulling for her, because I drew so much from my own experience. But the end sort of said, “You’re fooling yourself kid. Every chick wants that, and the more you try to pull away from it, the more you’ll want it to. Stop wasting your time.” Eventually, I’ll post something that will make sense of this paragraph. In theory, I could now, but I’m tired of blogging. And I have to pee.