Heather Anne asked (out of like TEN questions, heh): What do you not blog about?
Today I was driving behind a couple who couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Not in some vulgar display of affection, but gentle . . . sweet. His hand was on her headrest and every so often he'd play with her hair. We stopped at a stoplight and she grabbed his face in both of her hands, laughed, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. The light turned green, I saw them grab hands, his right, her left, and as they turned, I kept going straight and lost them.
The truth is, my first impulse was to ram my car into the back of theirs. They were young and in love (or at least in extreme like) and goddamn it, I was jealous. I'm young! And I'm not getting any younger! And it's at this point that I start worrying that I'm making all the wrong decisions or maybe not the wrong decisions but at least not the RIGHT decisions. Because if I was making the right decisions, things wouldn't be so complicated. Right? And I wouldn't spend every waking moment (and sometimes the non-waking ones) wondering just what the hell I'm doing and what I'm thinking and what he's thinking and how can I ask if I don't even know what I want? And the question I have running through my head all day every day is, "what the hell are we doing?" And I want to ask but I don't and then I think I might just make things easy for once, cut my losses, and run. But suddenly the phone rings or an e-mail pops up, my heart jumps into my throat, I take a deep breath, and forget about all my crazy.
You know. For a few minutes, anyway.