Age and Domestics
So obviously, as is posted by my time stamp, I'm up exceptionally late tonight. I'm not really sure why. I got distracted by all the pretty things on the internet, myspace, easter pictures, music. Kevin's sleeping and has been sleeping for hours now. I wonder what he'll say tomorrow when I tell him I was still up at a quarter past five writing down my feelings to people I don't know. He'll probably laugh and tell me I'm crazy. That's how things usually go.
My birthday is coming up soon! I'm super psyched. I think that birthdays are the most important days that people have. And right in this next moment, I'm not attempting humor, I'm being serious. I'm scared about growing older. Yes, I understand that I'm only turning 22, but it's 22 and then 34 and then 67. Every year after 21 means that I'm not going to be the "youngest" anywhere anymore. One day, every where I go I'll be the oldest person there. It terrifies me. Now I understand why people get so freaked out about 40. 40 is young! And here I am incredibly uneasy about turning 22. I'm crazy.
I suppose my biggest concern is not doing all the things I want to accomplish in life. Now, when I'm older and have money, I'll be able to accomplish those things more easily. As a broke college student, it's hard for me to travel and work on becoming famous. Not infamous, but famous. And no, I don't know how I'm going to do it yet. Singer? Writer? Cartoon voice artist? I've got to start networking. I'm good at designing things, but I don't think that'll make me big time. I don't want to be a celebrity really, but I'd like an article about me in some magazine.
I sound really self involved. Maybe I am. But I'm a nice, caring person, too, damnit. I should think that it's okay that I have high self esteem and know what my talents are. Back to my original goal of becoming famous, I'm too chubby to be a singer, and I'm not intelligent enough or witty enough to write professionally. Maybe I could act. Lame. No thanks. Well, I guess I won't be famous then.
But 22. Man, I'm going to fade away into the middle age era before I know it with no make-up on, kids on my hips, and flour on my cheek. If I was better at cleaning, I'd be a really good housewife. Maybe that's what I should work on. Cleaning skills, cooking skills. Domestics. I'll domesticate myself and be a good wife and mother. Sometimes, I wish I lived during the time when that's the only thing women did. Then I wouldn't have this passionate desire to be something more.
22. I'm screwed.
My birthday is coming up soon! I'm super psyched. I think that birthdays are the most important days that people have. And right in this next moment, I'm not attempting humor, I'm being serious. I'm scared about growing older. Yes, I understand that I'm only turning 22, but it's 22 and then 34 and then 67. Every year after 21 means that I'm not going to be the "youngest" anywhere anymore. One day, every where I go I'll be the oldest person there. It terrifies me. Now I understand why people get so freaked out about 40. 40 is young! And here I am incredibly uneasy about turning 22. I'm crazy.
I suppose my biggest concern is not doing all the things I want to accomplish in life. Now, when I'm older and have money, I'll be able to accomplish those things more easily. As a broke college student, it's hard for me to travel and work on becoming famous. Not infamous, but famous. And no, I don't know how I'm going to do it yet. Singer? Writer? Cartoon voice artist? I've got to start networking. I'm good at designing things, but I don't think that'll make me big time. I don't want to be a celebrity really, but I'd like an article about me in some magazine.
I sound really self involved. Maybe I am. But I'm a nice, caring person, too, damnit. I should think that it's okay that I have high self esteem and know what my talents are. Back to my original goal of becoming famous, I'm too chubby to be a singer, and I'm not intelligent enough or witty enough to write professionally. Maybe I could act. Lame. No thanks. Well, I guess I won't be famous then.
But 22. Man, I'm going to fade away into the middle age era before I know it with no make-up on, kids on my hips, and flour on my cheek. If I was better at cleaning, I'd be a really good housewife. Maybe that's what I should work on. Cleaning skills, cooking skills. Domestics. I'll domesticate myself and be a good wife and mother. Sometimes, I wish I lived during the time when that's the only thing women did. Then I wouldn't have this passionate desire to be something more.
22. I'm screwed.