i can’t promise that i’ll always be entertaining, or witty, or exceptionally brilliant. i have friends who are all of those things and more. i can promise you that i hate capital letters and won’t use them much. generally, i do try to use proper grammar and spelling, but again, i’m human and fallible so that may not happen all the time. i won’t always be nice and my opinion may never match yours. if you’re still interested, by all means read on. i’ll try to relate the world as i see it through the filter of a not quite 30-year-old single independent female. i really hope i’m not boring. but if i am… sucks to be you.
since you’re still here (i’ll assume you are since you would need to be reading these words to comprehend that i am speaking in present tense), i’ll continue rambling. i’ll try to update this thing as often as something that interests me to write about flits itself into my head. thankfully this passive way of getting my voice out to the world doesn’t come with deadlines and timetables. i’ve been thinking about those quite a bit lately. the end of the fiscal year coincides with the end of the performance management year as well as graduation. this great confluence of events sounds incredibly dull to anyone who isn’t in the middle of them in real life (my real life that is) it’s such insanity that one moment of crazy is only topped by the next moment of crazy. i miss spontaneous outings to not so well-traveled places. i miss not having to plan every second of my time so that i can do as i choose. most of all, i miss sleeping late…sigh…i will power through though, i do every year.
one of my favorite things to do is get up early on saturday morning and go to the farmers market. my friend em and i have a tradition that goes a little something like this: i text her as i leave the house and tell her i’m on my way. what i imagine happens in the meantime is that she cusses the hell out of me, drags herself out of bed, cusses me some more, and then finally begrudging my annoying earlybirdonsaturday habbit, gets up and ready. once i pick her up we beeline for the market and consequently the crack station – ie. the beverage lady. coffee for em, pink lemonade for me. i’m telling you… on a saturday morning in the summertime… that stuff is like crack. i can’t get enough of it. i even pay for refills.
oh. the reason for the name. i’m southern. i’m a big proponent of inherent politeness. no, everything in this world isn’t going to be sunshine and unicorn poo, but if people would smile a little more and remember their manners, this world would suck less. i’m sure for a first entry this probably reads a bit off, but tough nuts. i’m going to jump all over the place, such is the nature of my thought pattern. thus it will be evident in my written word as well. therefore, should you want to know something specific or have something that you’re just itching to get my opinion on (which i know you ALL are) you’re gonna have to spell it out.