When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a lot of things. Doctor, lawyer, back-up singer. Never did I ever think I'd become a complainer. I complain about a lot of things.
My first complaint in this blog will be that I am 28 years old and have finally decided to put my foot down and become a grown-up. Sure, I've been a grown-up technically since I turned 18. But let's be serious. 18-year-olds are idiots. I started college when I was 18. My roommate was an idiot. The guys that thought that bimbo was hot were idiots. I was an idiot for not breaking out of my shyness to make new friends. I did have one friend from high school, who went to college with me. She was an idiot. She was also selfish. Naturally, she introduced me to her idiotic, selfish friends. I ended up rooming with one of those idiots the following year because my idiotic, selfish friend from high school bailed on 2nd year and didn't bother to tell us.
I was such an idiot that I lived with her idiot friend for 2 years and 2 months. How did that work out? Well, I ended up moving out in early October because she let her boyfriend move in and not pay rent. To be honest, I wouldn't have minded his constant presense. I actually preferred him to her. However, he fucked with my sleep. How? Well my bedroom was right next to the bathroom. My headboard was right next to the bathroom wall. The walls of my bedroom were thin as fuck. In the middle of the night, one of them would innocently get up to pee. One of them would leave the fucking bathroom door open while peeing. One of them would flush and slam the door closed when finished. Okay. I'm reasonable. I asked if they both wouldn't mind not flushing or slamming the door, which of course they both ignored. Also, since he didn't work or go to school, he stayed in our apartment ALL DAMN DAY. So, when I'd go home for some much needed me time, he'd be there. Peeing loud as fuck. Flushing the toilet. Slamming the door. I couldn't get any sleep during the day or night. Combine that with their dog shitting on the carpet, her inviting over Satan's heiress, who is a whole 'nother blog rant, and his not offering to pay rent, and I just couldn't take it. Long story short, I had to essentially sell my soul and rat her out to her parents. My finest hour? No. Did she fucking deserve it? Yes.
College was also filled with so many "learning experiences" in dating. I use the term "dating" extremely loosely... (get it?). I "dated" a lot of jerks. Luckily, I paired most of my dates with a nice dose of jell-o shots and secondhand pot (does that even count?) and these days, I can barely remember all of the bullshit pity parties I threw myself.
Fast forward to today. I really don't have much to complain about. I'm well-educated. I have a nice place to live. I have a very nice job that I'm getting better at with each passing day. So why am I still a complainer? Because I have too go of a memory. I worry a lot. I think to myself how many lousy experiences I've had in the past and really hope they don't happen again. I hope I'm mature enough to not let them happen again. I want to be a grown-up, who doesn't hook up or actually date the wrong guys.
My ex used to tell me I should write a blog. I really didn't want to. I really didn't want to because I know what the blog in my head sounds like. It sounds like the rants and whining of an insecure baby. Damnit! I'm not a baby (spoken like every baby you've ever met). I'm a grown-ass- woman. So, today, I declare that I am not a complainer. I know who the fuck I am. I know that I have good days and bad. I know that I am not for everybody and everybody isn't for me. If anything I type here comes off as a rant then don't fucking read my blog. I can complain or feel insecure just like anybody else. My blog will be my chance to get a bunch of stories out of my head to help me work through my crap and help me feel better. Hopefully, they'll make you feel better, too.
Good night :)
