The Pressure's On

I'm seriously thinking about getting a Twitter account. Because more people need to know what I'm doing at every moment.

The pressure to be completely awesome 24/7 is just ratcheting up. You have to have cool, insightful things to write about on your blog, and you have to go funny places with your funny, photogenic friends to take pictures to post on Facebook, and you have to know about all the latest, hippest, undiscovered music to have in your IM feed, and now. Now, you have to be doing ALL THOSE THINGS ALL THE TIME, OR ELSE EVERYONE IN THE WHOLE WORLD WILL KNOW YOU'RE A LAME-O WHO SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY WATCHING GREY'S ANATOMY RE-RUNS AND EATING SOUR PATCH KIDS.

Or else you could become a magnificent liar and just manufacture a life for yourself on the internet whilst escaping to the sweet, sweet confines of your bedroom and your tried & true DVD collection.

Hmm.

I guess the question is, how much do you want the world participating in your life?

Really Good Things That Can Happen

I got a package in the mail from my old roommate cointaining one grey zip-up hooded sweatshirt, one dessert-sized plate purchased at Deseret Industries, one bag of Riesens, and one happy birthday note. It is mid-seventies here in Virginia, but I am wearing the heck out of that hoodie.

I happened to glance at my reflection as I was walking by a mirror and actually agreed with what I saw. Usually drive-by ambush sightings are the worst, too.

Someone compared me positively to Uma Thurman. I didn't know that was even possible, but apparently I am a warrior.

My living room is covered with books on Charles Dickens, no doubt the result of someone's harried finals paper writing. I am going to browse through all of them, and I may not even make it to work. Just kidding. Sigh.

I'm done with this job in less than a month. I am going to paint my bedroom the exact shade of happy I feel when I hear "home."

Time To Get These Seeds Into The Cold Ground, It Takes A While To Grow Anything

Where to begin? I told my boss he wasn't interesting about two weeks ago, and ever since, he has been obsessing about how he's Boring and blaming it on everything he can think of. Completely ignoring the face that he himself owns dozens of guns and once told me, with absolutely no prompting on my part, to "never hide my guns on my own property," because then The Man could find them. My boss is many things, but boring is not one of them.

Also, Mom, when I called you today and you asked me if there were any boys in my life, and I told you no? I said that because it's actually a Yes, oh my goodness yes, but he lives a million miles away and doesn't like me anyway. Is what I'm telling myself so that darn disappointment won't sting so bad. See what life has taught me?

But no matter, because there are fresh flowers on my desk. I got them from a boy, an eleven-year-old who thought I'd like them, and that is the sweetest thing that anyone has done for me in a while. So when the birds started singing alarmingly loud outside my window this evening, I just kind of smiled and threw a little laugh at my roommate who didn't really like it all that much.

Spring is no time for sourness.