Or something. Not exactly highly scientific here.
You love hoodies.
You love jeans.
Dogs are better than cats.
It’s hilarious when people get hurt.
You’ve played with/against boys on a team.
Shopping is torture.
Sad movies suck.
You own an X-Box.
Played with Hotwheels cars as a kid.
At some point in time you wanted to be a firefighter.
You used to be obsessed with Power Rangers.
You watch sports on TV.
Gory movies are cool.
You go to your dad for advice.
You own, like, a trillion baseball caps.
You like going to football games.
You used to/do collect baseball cards.
Baggy pants are cool to wear.
It’s kind of weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people.
Green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favorite colors.
You love to go crazy and not care what people think.
Sports are fun.
Talk with food in your mouth.
Male Points Total = 10
You wear lip gloss.
You love to shop
You wear eyeliner.
You have some of the same shirts in different colors.
You wear the color pink.
Go to your mom for advice.
You consider cheerleading a sport.
You hate wearing the color black.
You like hanging out at the mall.
You like getting manicures and/or pedicures.
You like wearing jewelry.
Skirts are a big part of your wardrobe.
Shopping is one of your favorite hobbies.
You don’t like the movie Star Wars.
You are/were in cheerleading, gymnastics or dance.
It takes you around 1 hour to shower, get dressed, and put on make-up and accessories.
You smile a lot more than you should.
You have more than 10 pairs of shoes.
You care about what you look like.
You like wearing dresses when you can.
You like wearing body spray/perfume/cologne.
You wear girl underwear.
Used to play with dolls as little kid.
Like putting make-up on someone else for the joy of it.
Like taking pictures of yourself with your cell phone/camera when you’re bored.
Female Total Points= 15
So unsurprisingly, this says I’m about 50% more female than male. That’s generally how I think of myself… I’m feminine, but not exceedingly so. I’ve been called “soft butch” before. Although, to be fair, this meme is more about ridiculous gender stereotypes than anything else. Girls don’t like Star Wars? Really.
I know I’ve had a lot to grouse about lately. My body’s failing me about 30 years too soon.
I’m just sitting here on a lazy Sunday morning, trying to convince my body to stop hurting. Dispari already injured me once this morning by pulling on my hand (stupid arthritic joints). I feel bad when she hurts me just by trying to be affectionate. The dog, on the other hand, is another story–I was trying to play with her yesterday and ended up throwing my shoulder out. Husky wrastlin’ is dangerous business. WebMD has become my new best friend as I try to research things like OTC pain medications and the like.
Despite all that, I still love my life. I have an awesome girlfriend. My job, while frustrating at times, is still fun for the most part and gives me opportunities to work in an industry I enjoy. I make enough money that I can live in comfort. Life, overall, is still worth living, trust me on that. So if you hear me complain, know that it’s only about transient things that will hopefully get better soon.
Where do I begin with this one? It feels like I’m slowly falling apart. As I mentioned recently, I have new health problems to deal with, compounded with everything else that’s been wrong with me over the years. The meds I have to take are tearing me apart. Every day I feel tired, nauseous, and in pain. On top of that, I’ve had all sorts of issues with my hormones, so we can add moodiness and hot flashes to the mix.
And yet, Dispari takes care of me for some reason. She’s always taking care of things around the house, cooking, giving me back rubs. She never complains. It makes me feel awful; I feel like I’m taking advantage of her good nature. Hell, barely a month after we met I had surgery that left me unable to even go to the bathroom without assistance, and she took care of me afterwards. It feels like ever since I met her, I’ve needed her to take care of me.
I don’t want to be a burden like that. I broke down at work today and started sending messages to her, apologizing profusely for being broken all the time. I told her that she should find a nice, healthy twenty-something instead of me, the lame thirty-year-old-in-a-sixty-year-old-body. I cried.
(And yes, unlike my previous post, this one is a pity party. You’ve been warned.)
That question has been on my mind lately. I realized recently that I’ve reached a strange turning point; most of my childhood and into my adult life, I was very introverted and suffered from a great deal of social anxiety. Thanks to the invention of the Internet, though, for the past 15 years or so I’ve had a safe space to experiment with my own personality and how I socialize with others. I’ve done some things right, some things wrong, but overall it’s been positive. I’m still nowhere near an extrovert, but I can pretend that I’m one pretty effectively on the web now. Even in real life, I have much less social anxiety than I used to, and I’m much better at making friends and handling interpersonal situations than I used to.
Dealing solely with the Internet side of things, though, I worry sometimes that I may be going a bit overboard and hyper-socializing. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but basically I tend to get in people’s faces for lack of a better description and thrust myself into social interactions that I would never be comfortable with in real life. I chat with complete strangers on a regular basis, and I have no problem engaging with completely random people. Sometimes I get the feeling that maybe I’m annoying people.
Where I really worry is with the people I actually do like. I’m prone to bunny crushes, or sometimes I just find someone really interesting. In that case I’m afraid I come off a bit stalkerish, and I find myself trying to engage with them at every opportunity. I suppose it makes sense… when you really like someone, you want to spend time with them, right? But of course for some reason the internet makes things creepier, or perhaps it just provides too many opportunities to be creepy.
Anyways, this isn’t a pity party I’m throwing for myself or anything like that. I’m just very analytical of my own emotions and motivations, and I like to think out loud.
Just a little poem I wrote for a friend.
Bright shining star of mine
Through foggy nights I find
Can I bring you home with me?
Though space be far and wide
I cannot bear your face to hide
Soft grey fur for me to cradle
And comfort bring if I am able
I’d like to take you far away
And save you all the hurt and pain
That my heart will not dare sustain