I’m sick and making some veggie soup. I kept getting faint so N took over. I just get to holler directions at him while I lay in bed dicking around on the internet. Being sick sucks, y’all, but it also sort of rules. Movies + cuddles + hot tea = bomb.
Something I’m wondering is, if we all hate Thought Catalog so much, who the fuck is reading it? I’m not criticizing the haters at all; I’m not much of a fan of the site myself. (Let’s all ignore the fact that maybe a year ago I linked to one of their articles, completely in earnest.)
I’m sure everyone has their own issue with the site. To me, the thing is, it reminds me how completely unoriginal I am. It’s strange, when I was very young, I had a fascination with getting older. I was sure being a teenager would be the most amazing thing ever. (It wasn’t). I also, for some reason, figured that my thirties would be a really great decade for me. I never really thought of my twenties, or if I did, I had an image of it in the most conventional way—my first “real” job, married by twenty-five (lol), kids in my late-twenties maybe. That’s obviously, definitely, certainly not the path I’m headed down and that’s fine and great and wonderful. But all of a sudden it’s like, being in my twenties is this thing that I’ve really enjoyed, for the most part, but that also feels so horribly cliche. It’s as though everything I like and wear and eat has been preordained and I hate myself for being so goddamn predictable.
So sometimes following molls and hellogiggles and zooey d. and joseph gordon-levitt and now mindy kaling is like, just a lot of repeated posts and I totally feel like I’m being left out of a club for super cool people and it sucks.
So I know that I’m like the only person in the world who doesn’t have a smart phone yet and so still uses T9, but I want to say that today my phone finally learned the word brunch (not crunch) and I’m just so fucking happy. Even though we didn’t end up going to brunch.