So I figured that I might as well write something. Just for kicks, and stuff.
I wrote an entry this afternoon. It's still in my drafts folder, nowhere near ready for posting. It wasn't supposed to be a depressing entry, but that's how it turned out. So it won't be getting posted anytime soon, not without major revisions.
One of the things I was thinking about, as I sat on my swing tonight, was how almost everyone is the same. Guys think they're cool. Girls think they're cute. Almost everyone thinks they're better than they really are. But, they're not. And they're not unusual or uncommon or unique either. Most people may as well have been born via cookie-cutter.
Is it so strange, I wonder, that when I finally meet those few girls who are actually different than almost everyone else, that I fall for them?
In my entry that I wrote today and didn't post, one of the things I mentioned was that SassyGirl had been in town to visit, and that I'd totally blown it with her. I mean, her timing really sucked. And I didn't return her calls, and I didn't go to Rich O's to see her.
I hoped that she would forgive me, eventually, though I doubted that she would.
But then today she called me, and then I called her back. She was still in town.
So I went to Rich O's after work to see her.
SassyGirl was my best friend for a long time. Now I get to see her maybe once every six months. That's not nearly enough.
A week or so ago I got some publicity for my pool blog. And I got a lot of additional traffic. So much traffic, in fact, that now my server keeps crashing, and my hosting company is threatening to cancel my account.
So, that sucks.
And, right now as I type this, my email isn't working. That royally sucks, because I'm kinda in the middle of a conversation with LaptopGirl, I think.
People keep thinking that I mad or sad when I'm not. It's totally understandable, I suppose. At least the sadness thing is. I'm sad a lot of the time.
But I'm hardly ever mad, so I don't know where that accusation comes from.
NotHideousGirl was a champion at thinking that I was mad. But I never was. Until she accused me of it enough to make it self-fulfilling.
UPSDude did the same thing once. He accused me of being mad at him. I told him that I wasn't, but he kept accusing me, over and over, of being mad at him. About a gazillion times he did this, until finally I was mad at him.
I really really really want to go somewhere this weekend. Just get away from here for a few hours. I don't know where to go, though.
Hmmm, I thought I might have more to write. Maybe later.