Monster

I seem to be attracted to bad relationships. Honestly. Perhaps that's why I prefer being single.

What brought on that astute observation? Well, I was sitting here, cataloging all the idiotic men in my life, and they are just that: idiotic. I have wasted a huge chunk of my adult life on morons. I don't know what it is about them that pulls me into their ridiculous orbit. I really don't.

You would think that since I am so smart, I'd have figured this out a long time ago and saved my heart some grief. Apparently romance is where my heart and brain part company. My brain, no doubt brilliant and rational, often tells my illogical, irrational heart that it has serious issues. My heart, on the other hand, just continues its self-destructive dance to heartbreak.

And I've also realized that I can't seem to catch the eye of normal guys. I've tried. All I get are the idiots. And idiots they have been: a handful of urban wannabes, a guy who played me and his wife at the same time for nearly two years (and who unfortunately happens to be Nicky's dad), a really weird short guy who had the tendency to cry, put me down in weird ways, and told me he loved me after two weeks, all while bragging to my ex-friend's husband's family that he was banging me--and, I find out that oh-so-coincidentally he's said ex-friend's husband's sister's baby daddy...And then there's the latest one, who I've been messing with on and off for the past two and a half years. He is yummy, but I think he thinks he's the real life incarnation of Jamie Kennedy's B-Rad. Seriously. His name even rhymes. He grew up in the way-out-there suburbs of somewhat rural Ohio, with an extended stint in San Jose in his teens. Perhaps that's where he found his inner gangsta. I don't know, but what I do know is that he is a poser and it becomes more and more transparent every day.

And why can't I leave him alone? I don't really know, to be honest. He is never going to settle down, he's a player, and he is never going to outgrow this gangsta mentality, if the growing number of meaningless tattoos prove correct. I don't get myself, seriously. And he's the one that has affected me the most...He's even got my brain in on this huge mess.

I think I like setting myself up for heartache. I'm not really sure, but I do know that there has yet to be a normal guy in my crazy tally. It seems my options are either heartbreak or being single. And in all honesty, I'm single now, and the dramatics of my life still suck.

I could write one hell of a bad melodrama based on my bad romances.

Falling or Flying

I'd like to share that I am a deeply and vastly interesting person. I am also pretty humble and/or modest, if you haven't picked up on it yet. I am also pretty Narcissistic. I love me, dude. I am pretty awesome.

Through all that awesome deep and vast interesting humble Narcissistic modesty, I also have a weird fear of letting the people that matter in my life down. I am terrified I am going to be a loser and live for the rest of my days in my parents' house in the same bedroom I've had since I was ten and eschew shaving my legs and talk to myself in code. That would be kind of funny, actually--I just giggled a bit at the hairy legs and the muttering in code thing.

But yeah. I am a pretty neurotic person. I talk shit but I am pretty thin-skinned. I'm pretty naive.

I'm actually kind of worried that I really don't have a grasp on my future yet. I am also worried that I will become one of those people that worry endlessly about the future and wind up living in a fantasy world made up of nothing but tomorrows. I am a restless perpetual daydreamer and sometimes I prefer the imagined to the reality. I keep telling myself that I will be twenty-five in five months and I need to quit this Holden Caulfield bullshit and just decide what it is that I am going to do with the sixty or seventy-something odd years left in my life. I am better at spontaneity than I am at the long-term. That was fine and dandy back when I was seventeen and bored on a Friday night and came up with a crazy idea to kill time, but not now. I'm halfway to thirty for Christsakes. Time to grow up and join the adult world and...then what?

I'd like to get a book published but then I'd have to actually sit down and fucking write one and actually finish it. There are so many things I'd like to accomplish in this tragically brief span of life that humans have on this planet, but I get bored with them before I actually start them. Boredom is a bitch. I'd like to become a singer but I lack the money for a demo and I lack the actual time to perform, what between working like most of my day and then trying to make up for the time lost during the day at work with Nicky. I want to move out, but shit, I am scared. I won't openly or vocally admit it, but I am scared of living on my own and not having that safety net if something goes wrong.

I'm a tangle of knotted-up insecurities. I'm pretty self-confident, but I'm also pretty self-conscious. I'm a goddamned walking contradiction. I'm like Red Bull in your decaf coffee, although that sounds pretty gross. I'm not gross. Insecure, yes. Gross, no.

Emily Dickenson once said, "Forever is composed of nows." I suppose that my rambling diatribe is leading up to just that. My fear of falling or flying doesn't matter. My now is intrinsically part of my forever. I wish I could make that sound more coherent and less acid trippy, but I can't. I am trying to say that forever only matters when you're dead, and that now is what matters.