MK showed up the afternoon of the 28th with a dozen red roses. Butthead.
I went to WalMart and got him the only other card they had besides the one I got him last year, and some Orbit gum. He’d rather have money in the bank than cheesy gifts that end up in the storage room.
We both got nice new hairdos and since it was no biggie we went out to dinner with MH, who I totally missed while we were gone! It’s hard having such great friends in so many places, I’m always missing someone. We went to a bar afterward. And saw the strangest band. Of all time. Of ALL time. And I’ve seen many bands.
Quite often, if MK and I both drink, we fall back in to the old ways we have only just gotten rid of – where we bicker about each other. It started out of love and was all a big joke to us, but not to people we did it in front of, and we worked hard to knock it off.
But you know what the ass kicker was? He brought up this. My blog.
He called me a wuss.
And you know what? He was right. I am such a freaking wuss. For someone who talks so much I have so little to say. I am so scared. While I was getting my hair done, the super lovely hairdresser seemed surprised that I was terrified of karaoke and daring fashions. But what you might not know about me is that I am so worried about what people think (or maybe I wear that on my sleeve and am totally blind to how obvious it is).
Trying to be a writer made me observe everything. Since college I have become so aware of my surroundings sometimes I can’t even focus. I hear others conversations within ear shot. I have a hard time taking it all in. But I think it goes both ways. I have panic attacks if something embarrassing happens. If I say the wrong thing in front of someone I analyze it for hours afterwards. It can be impossible for me to sleep if I’m stressed about what someone I might not even know that well thought about me in passing.
I give up too easily. I take the easy way out. As much as I love blogging, I write about how fun my day was instead of how worked up I am that my genius husband won’t take to the internet and tell everyone what really happened to the market on May 5th. Or that I hate lipstick. Or what a terrible driver my bother is.
Because I’m too worried MK might ever see this. Or that you LOVE lipstick. Or that CH won’t still love me if I tell him to not be so aggressive in CA in that BMW of his. And that you’ll think I’m stupid. That you’ll actually fail to realize that my great ideas never happen when my hands are on the keyboard. That you’ll think this writing at odd quick moments is what my book might look like. What ever happened to that thing…?
So I’m going to give this another go. And take the wuss out of this site. But only a little bit, I’m still nervous to lose you. I have such a wide range of friends, family, and strangers here I really don’t want to fight!
In case this whole entry is a little too retarded for you, check this out.
Another awesome idea (I wish I’d thought of first).