musings when i didn't have internet
If one were to walk into my room at any given moment, they would become intimately acquainted with my current state of affairs. While not an accurate situational barometer, either excessively messy or tip-top tidy indicate that one part or another of my life has completely jumped off the deep end. Right now we are looking at what you might call complete and utter chaos. I am at a juncture in my life where I must either step boldly into it headfirst or turn around and run back to where I've started, and quite frankly the chaos that surrounds me says one thing, that I'm not ready to do either.
My life can also be measured in the size of coffee I drink. I try not to be fixated on caffeine, but the near daily headaches require it to soothe them. Why is it that a "good conversation" is really man-code for sex? I suppose for most men a good conversation with a woman is one where she speaks as little as possible -- hence during sex. I honestly think that while men think about sex once every six seconds, the other five seconds are spent making up ridiculous nicknames for body parts and sexual positions. This realization is why as women grow older we tend to ignore the fact that our male counterparts snicker, giggle, and whisper at almost every word that comes out of our mouths. Innuendo is not completely overrated, it's just more misused than abused.
One of my roommates wondered why a former lover said to her "I miss your bed." There's a song I used to listen to by Dashboard Confessional that really resonated with my freshman year of college.
"I'm missing your bed
I never sleep
Avoiding the spots where we'd have to speak"
ok. fin.
My life can also be measured in the size of coffee I drink. I try not to be fixated on caffeine, but the near daily headaches require it to soothe them. Why is it that a "good conversation" is really man-code for sex? I suppose for most men a good conversation with a woman is one where she speaks as little as possible -- hence during sex. I honestly think that while men think about sex once every six seconds, the other five seconds are spent making up ridiculous nicknames for body parts and sexual positions. This realization is why as women grow older we tend to ignore the fact that our male counterparts snicker, giggle, and whisper at almost every word that comes out of our mouths. Innuendo is not completely overrated, it's just more misused than abused.
One of my roommates wondered why a former lover said to her "I miss your bed." There's a song I used to listen to by Dashboard Confessional that really resonated with my freshman year of college.
"I'm missing your bed
I never sleep
Avoiding the spots where we'd have to speak"
ok. fin.