School Girl Crushes

I'm here. My new home. And it feels good. I can write about anything again, and I don't care.

I try to figure out sometimes why I am so compelled to write on the internet. Most often I come to the conclusion that it's the only thing that gets me writing. Sometimes I think it's the only type of writing I'm good at. But reading back on old posts I can see how overwritten some of them are, which is really annoying. However, it's writing, the thing I've loved most since I was a child.

Though playing the piano has taken my attention for some years as has knitting and God knows what else, I'm drawn again to the Internet, to writing for me, about me. For me.

I'm not expecting an audience, and I sometimes think I write better when I have no expectation of being read. My favorite posts are the first few so long ago as I turned 25. What a different life I had when I started blogging in 2004. What a different person I was and how innocent, make that naive and far too trusting.

I ask people sometimes if they have drama in their lives. I'm always intrigued when the answer is no. What must it be like? A quiet life, I would settle for, needn't even be happy, but quiet, oh, quiet. That would be the ticket.

It's the start of the second day of the year, and things are too messy to be optimistic at the moment, too dramatic, too, well, just too. I'm not making any resolutions, except maybe just get through it. I can do that, but it's a fear of what could be waiting at the end of it that paralyzes me. The whatifs, so many of them, are responsible for this weight on my chest, this burden. But the funny thing is that, even in the midst of this very great drama, I am trying to keep going on with a normal side of me. The lady side of me that wants to love and be loved, but I'm afraid of that side of me as well.

It's responsible for bringing me here. To this place. This very, very dramatic place. My picker is broken, my intuition faulty, and I no longer trust my judgment where my heart is concerned. I love too easily. I trust too must. In fact trusting may be my Achilles heel, for trusting the wrong men got me in this mess.

But still, this lady side of me wants to love and be loved. And I promised myself that I wouldn't date until after the new year, so I could recover from the traumatic ending of my relationship with Slick. And here it is, the new year. People have been waiting for this day to come, and have already reminded me that my deadline had past and brought up men they are dying to have meet me. But the day crept up on me so fast; it took me by surprise.

Is it a good idea to consider dating while this is going on? Shouldn't I wait until after? But I couldn't imagine not dating again for the rest of my twenties. But I couldn't imagine bringing a boyfriend into this point of my life either. I don't even want to try to explain everything while wondering what the reaction would be to this messy ex life I lead. I'm not exactly seeing myself as a big catch. I've weighed my pros and cons, and the cons far outweigh the pros. Any guy worthy of me would have so many other quality options that my bid would fade to the back. Take five identical sheets of paper, wrinkle one of them and offer them to another to choose one piece. Think they're going to choose the wrinkled paper?

So dating isn't my priority. Surviving is. Having crushes will do for now. And crushes I have aplenty. And I can't wait to write about it. That's the good stuff. That's my fun. As if I were fifteen again in Dr. Bailey's Chem class.