I gave Matty a copy of Strunk and White's "The Elements of Style" (best and most concise book for anyone who writes), and the newest Dave Weckl cd, since he's all into jazz, and he'd never heard him before. I wanted him to hear some kickass drumming, and was hoping the album (previously unheard by me) wasn't too...er...cheesy. When I came into work tonight, he was listening to it, and he was like "This is some HAPPY jazz". haha.
Adam (my big brother) came into work tonight while I was listlessly unpacking and shelving cans of Spaghettios and Vienna Sausages, and we talked for about an hour. Interesting conversation.
Will, Kyle, Raq, Justin, and I are going out tonight. Will has offered to buy me drinks for the entirety of the night for listening to him whine about his love troubles and the subsequent break-up, and for advising him (which was really just me being like "Will, she's friggin 18 years old. You're 27. Therein lies the problem.") This whole "age is just a number" thing really is a total crock of shit. It's not JUST a number. 5 is JUST a number. Age is a marker, and in my experiences is almost always reasonably accurate. Sure, there are some 19 year olds that are more mature than some 45 year olds, but it's usually because they chose to enter into (or were forced into) adult situations earlier in life than the average person their age. They welcomed change, and thus learned how to deal with it. Immature 45 year olds, in my opinion, are usually those who are resistant to change -- the racist parents, the mothers who encourage their 30 year old sons to continue to live at home just because they don't know how to deal with empty nest syndrome...et cetera, et cetera. Either way, in my experiences, age does, in fact, matter. I'm 24 and am still immature in many ways -- I'm not great with the bills, I'm a general slob, I don't have great sleeping or eating habits. BUT, I'm emotionally mature and tend to get along best (reach the highest degree of understanding) with guys between the ages of 24 and 31, as a general rule. Nothing is ever foolproof. I dated a 19 year old about a year and 1/2 ago (eep!) and though he was not really emotionally mature enough for me (far too angsty...), he was, however, more emotionally mature than a 27 year old guy that I dated right before him. Sure, the 19 year old (now 20) works at a tattoo parlor, and the 27 year old runs a lawn care business. Sure, the 19 year old lives with his mother, and the 27 year old has his own place that he keeps up well. Irrelevant when it comes to emotional maturity. I live in a hellhole with 4 cats, and an 800 dollar power bill, but I know exactly what I want out of life, and I have a million ideas of how to get it. I know exactly who I am, and am open to the person I will be 5 years from now.
A breif list of things I find to be irritatingly immature:
1. drunk driving
2. talking loud in a movie theater
3. being a bad tipper
4. desperately feeling the need to "fit in"
5. lying about your mistakes/shortcomings instead of admitting them and accepting the consequences
6. saying "I love you" just because you're feeling frisky and he/she said it to you first
7. not being able to have an argument without getting livid and defensive
Though I could blather on to no foreseeable end, I shall abstain. I have lost my train of thought. The last I heard it was Westbound with incredible speed, and a thousand smoking cars.
I'm going to smoke the rest of my cheap cigar, and hypothesize about my ultimate decline ... when Traci and I were 18, we smoked our first cigarettes in Walmart parking lot. She accidentally lit the filter, and never looked back. I lit the tobacco, and now the tobacco lights me.
Adam (my big brother) came into work tonight while I was listlessly unpacking and shelving cans of Spaghettios and Vienna Sausages, and we talked for about an hour. Interesting conversation.
Will, Kyle, Raq, Justin, and I are going out tonight. Will has offered to buy me drinks for the entirety of the night for listening to him whine about his love troubles and the subsequent break-up, and for advising him (which was really just me being like "Will, she's friggin 18 years old. You're 27. Therein lies the problem.") This whole "age is just a number" thing really is a total crock of shit. It's not JUST a number. 5 is JUST a number. Age is a marker, and in my experiences is almost always reasonably accurate. Sure, there are some 19 year olds that are more mature than some 45 year olds, but it's usually because they chose to enter into (or were forced into) adult situations earlier in life than the average person their age. They welcomed change, and thus learned how to deal with it. Immature 45 year olds, in my opinion, are usually those who are resistant to change -- the racist parents, the mothers who encourage their 30 year old sons to continue to live at home just because they don't know how to deal with empty nest syndrome...et cetera, et cetera. Either way, in my experiences, age does, in fact, matter. I'm 24 and am still immature in many ways -- I'm not great with the bills, I'm a general slob, I don't have great sleeping or eating habits. BUT, I'm emotionally mature and tend to get along best (reach the highest degree of understanding) with guys between the ages of 24 and 31, as a general rule. Nothing is ever foolproof. I dated a 19 year old about a year and 1/2 ago (eep!) and though he was not really emotionally mature enough for me (far too angsty...), he was, however, more emotionally mature than a 27 year old guy that I dated right before him. Sure, the 19 year old (now 20) works at a tattoo parlor, and the 27 year old runs a lawn care business. Sure, the 19 year old lives with his mother, and the 27 year old has his own place that he keeps up well. Irrelevant when it comes to emotional maturity. I live in a hellhole with 4 cats, and an 800 dollar power bill, but I know exactly what I want out of life, and I have a million ideas of how to get it. I know exactly who I am, and am open to the person I will be 5 years from now.
A breif list of things I find to be irritatingly immature:
1. drunk driving
2. talking loud in a movie theater
3. being a bad tipper
4. desperately feeling the need to "fit in"
5. lying about your mistakes/shortcomings instead of admitting them and accepting the consequences
6. saying "I love you" just because you're feeling frisky and he/she said it to you first
7. not being able to have an argument without getting livid and defensive
Though I could blather on to no foreseeable end, I shall abstain. I have lost my train of thought. The last I heard it was Westbound with incredible speed, and a thousand smoking cars.
I'm going to smoke the rest of my cheap cigar, and hypothesize about my ultimate decline ... when Traci and I were 18, we smoked our first cigarettes in Walmart parking lot. She accidentally lit the filter, and never looked back. I lit the tobacco, and now the tobacco lights me.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
so here's the new plan. you come up to nyc. we'll beat the shit out of sam until he realizes that if anyone's emo, it's him. trust me, a few punches to the balls and he'll say anything. he gets a lil cranky everytime i punch him in the balls- i always try to explain just how funny it is, and how cute his "i got punched in the balls face is..", but he just doesn't seem to understand.... and then.... vegan condiments, photo set, and sex? it'll totally work.
i'm a bit cranky at the boy. he got me sick. i have the sorest throat ever. i can't sleep at night, and spend my waking hours drugging myself to try to minimalize some of the pain. he's decided to start camping out at my place. i like seeing him, really. but he needs to call before coming over. he needs to not leave his shit all scattered through my room. oh and he should have sex with me more often rather than trying to cuddle with me and whispering gross things like "i love you" in my ear. i'm trying to enforce the put out or get out theory and he's just not getting it. i tried to explain it to him. it's kinda like "you know how you keep goin at it til you cum? yeah. well. you're not gettin sleep til i get my cookie too." but alas. it's mr. awry, and he just doesn't get much of that. he's started referring to me as "baby" and i wanna strangle him. i really thought that i loved him or something, but these little things are making me want to castrate him..
but back to the issue at hand. you. me. nyc. i need your help kicking the boy into shape. and besides. it'd be totally fun. imagine the havoc we would wreak!