I feel like typing, yall. So here… have some nonsense.
One of my favorite scenes in Top Gun is when Iceman tells Maverick, You can be my wingman anytime, and Mav responds, Bullshit! You can be mine.
My girlfriends can’t understand why I’m single. It frustrates them, some much more than others. I want to tell them what I know from what men have told me, but I figure their responses would be to shrug those comments off as idiocy. But yall, it’s not idiocy. I don’t like wasting people’s time. Never have. I’m too quick to move people through the lines as a cashier, too quick to get them off the phone, too quick to get them gone, and I’m good at it–getting them gone. It’s my best talent. I can lose a dude in days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. It’s easy. All I have to say is I have cerebral palsy, or I’ve only had sex with one dude. Poof! I think this is a defense mechanism. I want love, but holy hell does it terrify me–so much more than physical intimacy does, and yall… I’m damned near phobic of that, and it’s not just because of what could happen… it’s because I’m afraid I can’t do it. I’m more afraid that I can’t love. That the feelings would be too big in me, and I wouldn’t be able to contain them, and… so I say the other… but only when the dude interests me. Never when I’m trying to tell them to fuck off. How weird is that? The ones who don’t deserve it get the drama, and the ones who do don’t. Maybe it’s that the ones worth knowing… I know their time is valuable, and I know I will waste it, and I forget who I am for a second. I forget the fear and the imperfections. And then all the sudden… Poof! There they are again… there I go again. And there he goes.
I say I don’t like bullshitting people… I’m the queen of it, yall. I excel at that shit.
I say men have been disappointing. I wonder how many I have disappointed. Or is that hubris in me to imagine that I have that kind of power? Because really, I don’t think I do… and yet… still I wonder.
Yall… I don’t have much passion for anything anymore. In fact, I don’t know that I have any. I can’t even rouse some for football and film, and I think yall know how fond I’ve been of such things. I put a shit ton of Packers crap on my Amazon wishlist in hopes I could rekindled some enthusiasm.
The words a pastor once spoke to me have been circling for days… Go hard after Jesus for ninety days, and see who’s still standing. It’s a fine idea. I wouldn’t know how to begin.
Some dude used the word dastardly in conversation. That’s a never-before-seen thing for me. I was impressed.
Five favorite films… there’s the five I say are the BEST: Star Wars: Episode V-The Empire Strikes Back (and NO, I have not seen Rise of Skywalker. I WILL NOT. I read the general plot, and it’s shit, and it ruins the whole shebang for me, and I’m clinging HARD to the love I’ve had for this film for practically four decades); Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Director’s Cut); Star Trek (2009); Serenity; Steel Magnolias. But they’re not my favorites, necessarily. I mean I FREAKING LOVE them. BUT… the ones that have made room in my heart are: Life Itself; Playing by Heart; Steel Magnolias; Dedication; Gifted. But most people will only have seen maybe ONE of those, so… I say the others because they’re more commonly known.
Five favorite books: Eleanor and Park and Landline by Rainbow Rowell; The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh; Lovers and Dreamers and Irish Born by Nora Roberts; Right Before Your Eyes by Ellen Shanman. Now here, I don’t give a damn that they’re maybe not all so widely known. How interesting is that?
Five favorite bands: Van Halen; U2; Depeche Mode; Def Leppard; Tori Amos.
I’ve only watched parts of No Country for Old Men and The Big Lebowski. The first was too intense for me; the second too bizarre–I think that one you’ve got to watch with friends, and I was by myself. I did see Alien. That might surprise some of yall–I can’t often do skeery, and it was kind of skeery. I damned well won’t watch others in that series, no matter how the storyline might intrigue me. And I finally got around to watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles. SO good, yall. I miss John Candy. I am a perfect mix of those two characters. Odd, oblivious and annoying like Candy’s character… uptight, impatient and angry like Martin’s.
FYI: I just used the above bullshit (and yall, how awesome is it that I don’t have to make this shit UP?… because really… what writer could come up with all that tragedy and heap it on a gal’s shoulders?) on a dude I have little interest in knowing. Twenty bucks says he’s gone by the time I finish typing this post.
I’ve since changed it again, by the way, from what it was on that most recent post because I got tired of dudes swiping right just because of the words rack and ass–I used a film quote from the film Dedication.
Some dude remarked that my profile had gotten his attention more than most and his instincts told him there was a strong personality there, so he had to see for himself. He thought he was right. I sure wish he was. I sure wish I wasn’t.
I like baseball well enough. I can’t stand basketball.
The best place I’ve been is London, England. I’d live there if I could.
That’s enough for today. That dude I’ve little interest in knowing… his mug’s still in my Bumblebee line.
I wish I could find Han Solo. I wish such a dude existed. I wish, were he to exist and were I to find him, that I wouldn’t fuck it up from fear.