Twenty days without an update. That means I was depressed senseless. Questioning things about myself. Finding out my little truths I dislike. I know if I could split myself through time, I would dislike my younger self. My teenage self would look up to who I am now but there is no split. I was that pathetic creature a long time ago, there has been no interruption in the train of thought for thirty years. Wasted youth doing nothing, not even getting in trouble. Just living what others told me to live. I still do what I'm told but at least now I lash out when they don't expect me to.

New friend at my job. The first genuine work friend: one born out of interests rather than every day forced collaboration. She is the wife of a musician from a local band I like. Totally cool. She leads the life I wanted a long time ago. I no longer want to be the rock wife. I want to be the rock star. Scratch that. If I ever become a wife I'd rather be a rock wife than an accountant wife. Fates: be blind to what I write here. You have already fucked around with my love life too much. I am already on a fast track to becoming a jaded spinster. None of my oldest friends imagined I would reach thirty totally single and childless. The childless part isn't so hard, but apparently my pheromones are all wired wrong. I am a guy magnet, but not in a romantic way. I always end up being the buddy they can tell their problems to. I am never the problem itself. Though part of it is my fault. I am extremely picky. I can count ten crushes since Kindergarten. He doesn't have to be perfect, just have the right kind of defects. Blah. Talking about love is silly. That is another problem.