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self-analysis via text

May 28, 2009

not too long ago, my best friend bug (not her real name, obviously) emailed me a collection of text messages i had sent her. we text all the time, but these are the ones she found worth saving for a couple years. i decided it would be amusing to parse them out and see if they say anything about me.

(in order from oldest to newest)

I just realized my underwear is inside out

  • i’m pretty sure this wasn’t the first time i did this (nor the last). all it means is that i don’t fold my clean underwear, and i should, because i am very much not a morning person. it’s a miracle i regularly make it to work with my clothes on properly. in fact, just this morning i realized there’s a big stain on the jeans i’m wearing, and i have no idea when/how that happened.

If you dont love me ill kill myself

  • bug and i like random lyrics from random songs. you should hear us riff on late 80s/early 90s pop country.

I will die alone with ten cats

  • i tend towards the melodramatic at times. this probably came about after one of those evenings where i realized i was 27 and spending my evening at home with my cat, cross-stitching while watching a PBS documentary on the british royal family. for the record, i believe i’ll retire in some sort of golden girls-fashion, and that i will have fewer than 10 cats.

Bart. Nothing like public transport when you are slowly dying inside

  • i hate commuting. nothing will sour you on humanity faster, except maybe food service.

If i were a 16th century serf, i would have bigger problems than defining my personal philosophy

  • as previously stated, part of this blog is to help me work through my issues, to make stop sitting around whining and actually do something. part of what makes the ennui of twenty-somethings like myself so ridiculous is that we’re so fortunate compared to previous generations (and i don’t necessarily mean those from the 16th century, either). when my mom was 28, she was dealing with 3 kids and a divorce and putting herself through school so she could get a decent job and support us. when my maternal grandmother was 28, she already had 4 kids. when my paternal grandmother was 28, she was already on her 2nd marriage and her 4th kid. and those are just the figures; that really doesn’t get into all the drama, the trials and travails of their lives. i don’t think they really sat around wondering if their career was really as fulfilling as it could be (for one thing, my maternal grandmother was married to a man who believed that “no wife of his was going to work”). we’re blessed, and yet we’re sitting around moping because we’re not as special as everyone told us we were, because we can’t make a decision about what to do with our lives. and somehow bug and i ended up having a similar conversation via text.

Lets never be our mothers

  • let me just say, i love my mother. she’s a hell of a strong woman (see above). and though we’ve had our disagreements over the years on any number of issues (the years 1994-1998, just to start with), i like her and i’ve learned a lot from her. we get along well. but there are many, many ways in which i very much do not want to be my mother. most of them revolving around her taste in men. oh yeah, did i mention that having been divorced from my deadbeat father for 25 years, she recently decided to date him again? that’s the kind of shit i’m talking about.
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