Stuff.
There's a surprising amount of stuff floating around in my head that just never gets written down here. I'm not sure why-I have no problem writing some sort of blog post on I Like Bubbles every week day, but that's senseless World of Warcraft babble, not the things rattling around in my head pertaining to me, myself, and I.
On one hand, March is creeping up on me. March brings two things-one, the anniversary of when I got Beau, which was both one of the best and one of the most stupid things I ever did. The whole saga leaves lingering guilt to this day and I will apologize to his ghost for eternity, I'm sure. I adopted him March 20th, when I was 19...
...and two, on the 30th, is my birthday. I turn 25 and find myself in a mild panic. My job is...just that, a job, and while precious enough in these times, what I do is deeply dissatisfying for someone with a bone-deep urge to 'help'. Much like one of the characters I role-play, I want to fix the entire damned world. But all of the jobs I can think of offhand that cater to that part of my nature requires a degree I cannot afford to complete. Feeling unfulfilled? Check. Wasn't I supposed to have accomplished something by now?
There's also the fact that I have no fucking friends. Not here, in person, at least. I can make friends in a heartbeat online (wtf) but here? Not really. Oh there's some lovely ladies I eat lunch with-and they're all older than my mother. Not really the sort I'd socialize with outside of work. I just have...no exposure to my peers. Most of the other volunteers at the barn are either again, older than I, or high schoolers. I miss Braden something fierce. I go out of do stuff with people, this is true, but that's...borrowing Josh's friends? Being dragged along with? Not quite the same. But fuck if I know where to find people to be friends with.
Of course, other important things in my life are there. I am more-than-certain that Josh is the keeper. Amusingly enough that combined with my creeping birthday seems to be triggering Typical Female Things in me, but I don't want to scare him off. No, I'll just settle for asking, on a semi-regular basis, "You're gonna marry me, right?" and pretend like I'm just being a silly idiot when I do it. Of course his brain looks at it and goes, "We'll only have been together for two years as of June!" and I'm looking at it as "Two whole years! And we've been living together for half of that and I don't want to strangle him yet! And he CLEANS! And if my grandmother dies first I'll be REALLY SAD" while simultaniously taking in the fact that it'll be something that takes plenty of time in and of itself to come together (unless we're sneaky, but there's people who'd kill me if I was entirely sneaky, I think-hi Braden!). Ah, the differences in how our brains function! But I'm aware of this. And so I'm quiet. Mostly. Most of my overwrought insecurity ("He won't do it! He'll say he will, but he actually won't! JUST LIKE THEY ALWAYS DO") is screaming from my past-relationship baggage, anyway. And we can ignore that. Right?
...most of that probably made more sense. Another reason why I don't post here much-my inner critic reads this shit and goes, "What? No!"
IamgoingtopresspostnowbeforeIchangemymindanddeleteitall.