I love my friends. Don’t get me wrong. They are some of the coolest people in the world. (Obviously, they hang out with me.) But sometimes it’s just too much. Compared to most of the people in my generation, I’m something of a hermit. I don’t like to have plans for every day. I’m perfectly okay with days like today. Stay at home, read my books, watch some TV, take care of my chores, work. I don’t mind the solitude. Hanging out with some friends a couple of nights a week is good. I can keep up with them easily that way, stay close. Without killing myself with fake smiles and interest.
What brings this post about, I’m not really sure myself. I miss my Phatts. I miss my Stooges. I miss my super secret best friend Bruce Wayne (hi). And I like to hang out with my friends every now and then. I enjoy when they text me and we catch up for a couple of days. But then there are those people who want to talk to you 24/7. And there’s not much to talk about. I’m not going to lie, back in my
immature days really, really immature days I did the same thing every now and then: always wanting to text someone and keep the conversation going that wasn’t really a conversation… But those days are long gone. I don’t mind texting people if it’s an interesting conversation. I don’t mind talking to people on the phone as long as there’s not those awkward pauses where neither person is talking (with the exception of Kennedy). But for reals.
There’s been this guy that wants to keep talking to me. He’ll start by asking how I’m doing. Then he’ll ask me how my day was. Then he’ll ask how work was. Then he’ll ask a question that will get some semblance of a conversation going. For like two minutes. Of course, I’m not just a jerk and answering the questions, I try to ask questions as well, but believe it or not, sometimes I don’t even know what to say.
I can feel that I have now reached the point of rambling. Moving forward.
Yesterday I had to train someone. I used to be like THE trainer at Sonic. Apparently I’m taking that role back. I’ve barely been back a week and I’m training again. I guess I do it right, but I loathe training. Because when they screw up, it’s my screw up as well. And they follow you around like a puppy. And I would know. I’ve got two at home. Of course it’s not their fault. And the girl that I was training yesterday was actually a sweet heart. But she couldn’t multitask. Hahaha. All the same, I’ve trained worse.
Yesterday I got onto my Goodreads account and found that I was 62 books behind my yearly goal. I’ve read seven books this year. Yikes. So I pulled some books out of my magical pink trunk and got going. I started on a book full of Celtic, Nordic, and Tuetonic legends and myths. In my reading I have found a lot of phonetic synonyms to names of places and people in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Perhaps Tokien got his ideas from rarely known myths?? It’s an interesting theory. I feel so smart making these connections as I read. And apparently my ancestors of Ireland were allies with Attila the Hun. It’s crazy what you can learn from old legends. I find most of them to be very realistic and historically accurate (if I’m remembering correctly from history class) there is a very small touch of the fantastical dwarves and elves and magical gifts. Small enough to see why they were added, just to make up a gap in the story. Small gaps that really don’t effect the outcome, just to explain why ordinary men were able to accomplish so much. The stories even have sarcasm in them!!! Amazing. Who knew I came from a long line of sarcastic warriors? I guess I had no hope.
And with that I’ll bring this negatively-toned post to an end for the sake of us all. Keep it classy folks, to make up for my recent lapse. 😉