I'm really good at self-disclosure

I can talk. Sometimes I can't stop talking. However, I never manage to say the things that are really important. I can't quite get out the stuff that I really want to say. Sometimes this is a good thing, as it keeps me from being a complete idiot. Sometimes it's not such a good thing because I don't end up saying things that need to be said. Sometimes, even though I know it's a good thing that I'm not saying everything that's whizzing around in my head and heart, it doesn't feel like a good thing.

Sometimes I wish life were more like books. I wish I could skip ahead and see what will happen in the next chapter, and if I don't like it, just put it down and try a new one. I wish I could have an omniscient narrator for my life, so that I could know what was going on behind that face I find so hard to read.

I hate not knowing where I am, or where I'm going. I hate that I can't figure it out. All I can do is guess. And the clues do not follow the simple logic one finds in Sherlock Holmes, it's much harder to figure out the motivations and desires of people in real life. I can't make all it out. It's not fair that people should be so cryptic. However, I am determined to figure this one out.

Too much candy makes me puke

It’s Valentines Day. The internet is awash in cute little cartoons and suggestive adverts, and articles on love and coupling and commercialism.

I read about how ugly people will end up with ugly people, pretty people will end up with other pretty people, and how ugly people will know that they are settling because they are ugly.

I also read about how much money we Americans tend to spend on this day of romance. It was a little disgusting how much people spend on average.

I also read that the average minimum price of an engagement ring was over $4,000.00.

I had intended to avoid writing today. I didn’t want to end up writing the same junk that pops up this time of year all over the place. Oh, I’m alone. Oh, why do I have to watch every one buying gifts and flowers when I know I won’t get anything? Oh, woe is me, blah, blah, blah. It’s boring and nobody really cares. But then I read these articles and I wanted to comment on some of this stuff.

First off, if I found out someone spent over $4,000 on an engagement ring I don’t really know what I’d do. That seems a bit extreme. I don’t think a ring should cost more than a Vespa. I mean, if you want to spend that much money, just buy me a Vespa. It’s useful and fun.

Then the whole thing about ugly people got me thinking. It got me thinking more specifically about my last few beaus. They were not lookers. In fact most of them were just plain funny looking. It made me wonder if that means that I am, in fact, funny looking. While I know for a fact that I am no Angelina, I’d like to think I’m not exactly Strangers With Candy fugly either.

Maybe if I lower my standards just a little bit more, next year I’ll be able to get a big ugly card from a big ugly man.

Well, a girl can dream…