yesterday was the wonder twins’ seventh birthday. SEVEN. how the hell did that happen? why, WHY can’t they stay little for a little while longer? gah.
i had two errands to run before the party (which was at little beakers in oak ridge north, which is pretty danged nifty, yall… you local folks should totally check them out): snag two papers to send to some folks and pick up some shampoo. real exciting stuff, i know. but first, i needed food. so i headed for market street to potbelly’s for a skinny turkey (i’d meant to get a strawberry banana smoothie but got sidetracked).
sidetracked because i snuck through zulee’s first. i love that place. i got distracted by the quotes wall. and the books, five of which caught my eye enough that i forked over some fifty bucks to take them home. but the thing that really made an impression was a little black and white foam coaster at cashwrap: i think, therefore i’m single.
i bought that, too, because at first i was amused. god forbid a woman have more brain power than a man. and my brain is pretty danged powerful, yall.
but the more i’ve thought about it, the more troubled i am by the thing.
because THAT’S the damned problem. it’s not that i’m smart. it’s that i have to think and think and think and think… i think so much and so hard and so often about a thing… can’t see anything but that thing. can’t care about anything but that thing. i worry over whether i should’ve said this or shouldn’t’ve said that–more the latter than the former, of course, because i never know the right things to say.
it’s fucking exhausting, and there’s a stretch of months that exhaustion tends to whammy me: from thanksgiving to my birthday… the end of november to the end of march.
ten more weeks ’til my birthday. ten more weeks of valentine’s crap followed by my brother’s death day and my birthday and the calendar–thank god–goes easy on me again.
the only saving grace for this torturous stretch is football. it’d be nice to have a guy to watch the games with–i’ve never been involved with a guy during this time of year, save for that jackass i’d dated last spring who couldn’t even be bothered to TEXT me happy birthday–but i can’t shut my brain up long enough to get one to think of me in that way.
one of those quotes on the wall was positive attracts positive. yes, i know. i’m positive i’ve got a lot to offer. i’m positive i’m worth knowing.
i’m positive i don’t know how to market myself so the many gifts i possess can be seen in the best light. i’m positive that the majority of my experiences with men have been negative, and that part of the blame for that falls on me. i’m positive being in a relationship with a guy terrifies the ever-living hell out of me.
i want to be distracted.
i want–so much–for a guy to say to me i’m not going to let you fuck this up.