I’m such the bad kid these days. I’m ornery and starting trouble with people just for the sake of starting it. Nothing serious, of course, but for some reason overhearing a conversation and then finding it my place to disagree (mind you, I had no opinion one way or the other in reality) by chiming in just seemed appropriate.
I know when I get like this it’s because I’m just fed up. And not with anyone or anything in particular, that would be far too easy. I’ve simply allowed myself to get everything wrapped around me instead of caring to wrap myself around any of it.
This actually comes at a good time, though because my last post seemed to garner some interesting comments and emails. The comments, as you can see, were constructive. The emails, however, were of a variety. While I understand some people would rather email on some topics out of comfort zones, sensitivity, etc. I don’t understand only emailing you’re a cold hearted b*tch, no wonder you’re alone, die! I can’t really make sense of that. It’s a timing, thing, I guess because a year ago I would have thought a while about that comment and now I just wonder how on Earth anyone has the time because, I tell you, I haven’t had the time to so much as pick my nose in the last two weeks and you’re off finding people to email and insult? And somehow I don’t think saying people, trust me, I have feelings upon feelings. My feelings have feelings. Know the feelingless? I have some! I have them to spare! would actually help matters.
I wonder if you know of the eighteen million other things you could be doing right now, like mowing the lawn, watching Entertainment Tonight (dude, have you heard the latest on Hasselhoff?), or, if you’re really bored, picking my nose. Seriously, telling me I’m cold-hearted and to die is really not constructive. Two reasons: One, there are three things that I’m 100%, all the time going to defend, and tip-toeing around feelings ain’t one of ‘em. Second, statistics actually do show that yes, I will die one day. So basically what you’re doing is telling the sun to set in the West and baby, THE SUN ALREADY KNOWS.
Perhaps this is pointless to say anyway because I’m going to continue living in my little fantasy world where everything is mostly good and things that suck will all eventually go away. This fantasy includes the idea that me, myself and my body are just going to be twenty-one years old forever. I’m going to pretend I can bounce out of bed every morning, lace up my shoes and run like it’s my job. It’s not going to hurt when I walk up and down stairs, I’m not going to have to see a doctor, ever, and when I kneel down to talk to small children I’m not going to be extra careful and groan like I’m seventy-two. Because I’m twenty-one, remember? Keep up.
Mostly, it is because I’m a stubborn idiot and am somehow still feeling the need to do a marathon on Sunday that I am a) not trained for and b) still hem-hawing over three days prior. (Yes, I know.) But the plans are made, the trip is set, the people are loading up and heading out and part of my ill-prepared ass still wants to knock out twenty-six miles.
I already know how that sounds. I already know there’s all this “what about the future?” and “listen to your body” business to think about. And the truth is, I probably won’t do it. I will probably come to my senses and stand at the finish line and cheer and take pictures.
But I might not. Because I’m feeling ornery, you know, and also, careless.
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My best to all of you racing this weekend. And my best to all of you, really!
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