Uh, maybe I should just be happy I'm not Sandra Bullock.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Do you ever feel like some people have all the luck? I'm not sitting in a corner saying "woe is me" or anything, but I kinda feel like luck should be dished out a little more evenly. Or at least given to those who deserve it. But it seems like people hoarding all the luck steer on the side of not really being worthy of it all. And you know they know it! They walk around with a twinkle in their smile that says, "I am totally the luckiest bastard in the world and I'm gonna run for it!" It all makes me extremely suspicious that karma or fate or any of those excuses we use to explain life actually deserve any merit at all. And I'm not talking about any of that crap like, "I'm lucky to be alive" and "I'm lucky to have family"- we're talking about REAL luck here. Like people who fall into jobs that they never should have had, people who have these lifestyles of ease and breeze that did nothing but stumble upon luck to get it, and super models who were born perfect (a Victoria's Secret commercial just came on) and therefore have power over the world.
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 8:35 PM
Monday, March 29, 2010
I think I might have a chemical dependency on another human. And I've been looking for treatment options, but there doesn't seem to be any. No health insurance coverage for this addiction.
You might be thinking to yourself: This chick is crazy. How can she be chemically addicted to a human? But I'm telling you, the chemical makeup of me gets high on the chemical makeup of another. This person is my crack cocaine. No matter how much I try to resist temptation, the high is so great that I risk the lowest of lows for a little taste of the candy. Defying all logic it's like a magnetic force pulling me in and I have zero power to stop it.
It's terrible. I need hypnosis or rehab or something.
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 8:11 PM
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Yesterday I ran one of my normal 4 mile routes. I've been running said route for a solid 1.5 years. However yesterday, I got lost getting home.
Suddenly I looked around and thought to myself, "Huh, this doesn't look familiar." I was so turned around that I actually had to use my iphone maps to get me home.
This is concerning to say the least. This proves my ability to become completely focused on thought alone...but is no excuse for actually getting lost a mile away from my home. I do not know what this says about myself.
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 8:38 PM
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I need to admit an unhealthy love for something not real. It's called "Friday Night Lights", it's a television show, and I am in love with it. In particular, I am modeling my hopeful life partner off of a relationship seen on television.
I feel I must defend myself by illuminating you all with the knowledge that I've never really been a "tv" person. True, I went to film school, but I really didn't watch television or listen to music until my mid-twenties. Even so, I very recently bought my first ever television (I've had tv hand-me-downs, don't worry, I'm not a total freak). I like tv, just haven't really found the time to get involved on a regular basis. I actually want to be more of a tv person (hence the recent purchase) not only because it's pretty essential for my career, but because it really is a good form of escape. Therapy in a cheaper manner.
Regardless, my brother turned me on a month ago to this show "Friday Night Lights" and he insisted I'd really like it because it was well made, good writing, fine actors, etc. I blew it off, because it looked to me like something my mom would watch while crocheting on an actual Friday night (bless her soul). Basically one step away from a Lifetime made-for-tv movie. Yet, I obliged and got Season 1, Disk 1 on Netflix. And that was the beginning of my love affair. I LOVE that show. I love the people, I love their lives, and I love their relationships. My main infatuation is with Coach Taylor and his wife. I want their relationship. They are so in love but have real life problems! They fight, but they apologize and they say what they feel and in the end they always end up getting each other. Or, they don't get each other and it's ok. Mrs. Taylor can actually speak her mind and will yell at her husband and stick up for herself and in the end he admits wrong doing, she admits her wrong doing, and they are there for each other and partners and you can just tell they're meant to be together. Ah. It's so frickn' perfect. It's perfect but it's not perfect which in my mind makes it perfect. And that is what I want.
So, um, is this unhealthy? That I finally know what I'm looking for in a man and life partner and it's modeled off of a fictional couple based on a football centric town in Dillon, TX and returns to television (thank God as I am now caught up and through all 3 seasons) in April?
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 9:50 PM
Monday, March 22, 2010
I'm no feminist (I believe gender roles can be useful in keeping life organized) but there are things that really bother me as a female in the workplace:
1. Don't touch me. EVER. Not on the back, not on the arm, and most certainly not on the neck.
2. I am not a secretary nor an assistant. Don't call me an assistant because I'm a female in an office and you're unsure of my title. Just because Mad Men represents the creative agency world doesn't mean that's how the industry still works.
3. Don't assume I don't know what you're talking about. Because I do. And if I don't, it's because I'm bored and simply don't care.
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 4:54 PM
Sunday, March 14, 2010
I just had to come back to this blog. After a break to try and collect myself and become an adult, I couldn't resist sharing the ridiculousness of my life. It's just too damn ridiculous.
So, what's with the young guys lately? I generally date 5+ years above my age. But lately the younglings have been hitting on me without abandon. Like, 23 year olds. They are so young that I call them "cute" and I kinda want to pat their heads. And they try, they really try with earnest, to hit on me or whatever it's called, and I find it adorable. Isn't that amazing? Take that adorable kid and put 15 years on him and he's insta sleaze. Last weekend I found one young fawn's quest at my attention particularly confusing. Lanky, slightly urban-geek, wearing a cardigan and v-neck t-shirt. Obviously I assumed he was gay. A v-neck? But as we bantered and he what I thought was faux hit on me he became increasingly hurt by my playful tease. Suddenly he turned honest and said to me, "You know, I really like you and you're hurting my feelings right now." Yes, he really said that. Needless to say my friend and I bolted to the door as soon as he left for the bathroom.
So, I'm not complaining. Of course it's nice to get hit on. But okay now- can't I have someone in my target demographic come around?
Posted by Girl Twentiesh at 9:32 PM