A fish without a bicycle

I've gotten accustomed enough to being single that I no longer have the urge to buy a pair of tickets when there's a show I want to go to in the near future.

I want to get back the time I have fruitlessly and uselessly spent thinking about boys, trying to find a boy, and fretting over what will happen with a boy when I do find one who might be worthy. It pisses me off that I've just squandered so much of my life. I could have written god knows how much more. I could be a gourmet cook. I could have saved for, bought, and learned to play my own damn guitar. Just in the time I've wasted.

It's not the fault of boys, thought they certainly have failed to help or be useful in any real sense. It's my fault for letting myself dwell.

You'd think I could have seen the futility of it all before the age of 30. Hmm. Maybe that's why all my friends who are older than I say that 30 is the beginning of the really good stuff. Because you finally learn not to give a shit about things you can't control.

I shall be a catlady spinster. A really in-shape one. With a World Fantasy Award. And her own cooking torch. And a really clean house. And a level 70 EQ toon, because catlady spinsters need to goof off sometimes too. :-)

Well, duh.

Stolen from ravenswing90.

I am Indie Girl Click on the picture below to read more: Take the 'What Kind of Girl Are You?' quiz at CookingToHookup.com

Random thoughts on a non-baseball day

(Yeah, I know the NL is playing, but with the Cubbies out, I don't care about them until the end.)

I bought laundry detergent especially for dark clothes. This is the Most Brilliant Thing EVAH.

Well, until I find something more brilliant.

I read all of Louise Rennison's books in quick succession and can't keep the Britishisms out of my daily conversation. How sad is that? I love to say "snogging." If you're kissing right, it should be as dirty as that sounds.

All the praying I will be doing in the next month will center on Massachusetts. Oh, god, let Kerry win. Oh, god, let the Red Sox win.

My "fish without a bicycle" entry should not be read as me giving up on finding twu wub, serious like, a good shag, or any combination thereof. It just means I realized that my mental energy is better spent other ways. I've always kind of felt that actually going out and looking--forcing the hand of fate, as it were--is not a good idea, but in the past my impatience has gotten the better of me, and I've looked anyway. Keeping an eye out in case some lovely walks by me isn't cheating, but posting on dating sites is. (Besides, I think we have covered the quality of the boys one finds that way, my lovely buddy BassPlayingBoy excepted, of course.) As Susan Gilman says, we should shop for a mate with the same discrimination we use when we shop for clothes. I hate to shop and will only do it if I know exactly what I'm looking for. And I'll only buy something if it fits me and I adore it.

So I plan to spend less time wondering why my boy isn't here yet and more time doing useful things. And no time at all prowling around in seach of him in real life or online. Because of a combination of:

a. It doesn't work anyway
b. That counts as forcing the hand of fate and feels counterproductive
c. I can no longer be arsed to make that much effort
d. I may be ready, but he may not be
e. I may not be as ready as I think