Lately I've been thinking about all of the things that I really want to have when I'm all grown up (meaning that I have a decent-paying job that qualifies as a career rather than a relatively temporary stint such as, say, a part time retail job that makes me hate the world). Here's what I've come up with so far:

*A black Volkswagen Jetta.

*A smoothie maker and everything necessary to make some sweet ass fruity drinks

*extended cable

*tivo

*a tropical fish tank

*a butterfly garden

*a full set of bamboo knitting needles

*a compost heap

*a koi pond

*a king size bed with a pillow top matress

*a two story house with a huge open porch and a sun room

*a home office

*a large and well-coordinated wardrobe

*a walk-in closet

*a sweet lady to wake up next to

I also want to have a lot of dinner parties and more dogs and some cats and more plants. The usual shit you would expect from me. I can't wait to be middle-aged just so that I can be financially stable enough to have nice things. At least, that's the plan. I suppose these desires mean that I am hopelessly materialistic, and therefore a good capitalist and a good American. Better to know exactly what you are than to deny those things that you don't want to be.

Bridget just signed on to msn and then signed off right away again. Right now, that qualifies as fucking with me. I almost started crying tonight when I was driving home from work and singing along to that stupid Limp Bizkit song (uberpathetic, I know) and I had to admit to myself that I miss her . . . a lot. And it bothers me that she hasn't emailed me or anything since she came home for the summer. I just want her around again. I don't want to date her again, but I want her around and I want things to be okay. I can't just write her off and make her the butt of my jokes like I seem to be able to do so well with so many other people. I want her to be my friend. I want her to love me even if she's not in love with me. And I'm a fucking loser who voluntarily restrains from honest communication, so I haven't and probably won't tell her any of this shit, but I'll wait for her to say it to me and I'll be disappointed when she doesn't. You would think I'd be smart enough to see that I'm on a one-way path to becoming my father and get the fuck over all of my little hang-ups, but I'm not. I'm just a fucking idiot. And the last item on my list will probably be the one thing that I will never get, and the unfulfillment of that desire will make everything else seem so trivial.

Maybe I don't want to grow up afterall.

last - next