Like I have time for this. Actually I do, but I am lazy. Very lazy. And my mind wanders way too much to actually compose coherent thoughts and stories about the erratic and fleeting details of my life. Plus, who wants to read it? I certainly do not. I never was one to keep a journal or a diary. I tried a journal once. I told myself it would be to write lyrics, draw pictures, keep track of ideas I felt were brilliant at the time. I'm afraid to open it. I'm afraid I would think I'm an idiot. To actually catch a small glimpse of how others might perceive me would do more damage to my crinkle-cut self esteem than going back in time and reliving my first middle school breakup. Which of course was public, in the middle of a St. Catherines dance during Modern English's antitheses to the moment "Melt with you". Things were so simple then. My whole week revolved around getting my homework done and wondering if I would get to make out with someone at the dance. Jesus, I still worry about homework, but on a much grander scale. And I guess I still worry somewhat about whether or not my "someone" will make out with me on the weekend. But now I worry about so many other things. Is that what becoming a grown-up is all about? Worrying? Like when you are young you are too naive to know what to worry about, and as you get older the world does a favor and lets you into the worry club. Your meetings are the evening news, the clubs newsletters are your bills, and your ever dwindling bank statements. You ascend the club hierarchy when you take on more debt, bring children into your life, lose family members to illness. I saw this show on Iceland. Icelanders boast that they have the greatest longevity than any other country. I wonder what they worry about? Plus they are the only country still able to hunt those cute little seabirds called Puffins too. Funny to think about the least stressed out people hunting the most stressed out birds in their country. Poor cute little birds. Kind of puts it all into perspective. Now If only my special someone was around to make out with me.
I worry about you...but not about making out. There will ALWAYS be making out. read more
on I worry for the Puffins of Iceland