Random thoughts on a non-baseball day
Oct. 7th, 2004 03:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkluna(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
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
