24 on the 24th

24 Wednesday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in Blargh, Lindsay, NaBloPoMo 2010, Year Wrap-Up

Today I turn 24 years old. It is what I am told is referred to as a “princess birthday.” The day was a disaster of the kind that would rival Samantha Baker’s birthday, culminating in a sudden headache and stomach ache that led to me making an abrupt and rather generous offering to the porcelain goddess. Repeatedly, because ‘tis the season of giving, and, well, I really need a job. So, I continued this from about 9 in the evening until 4 in the morning, and then my body and I came to the joint conclusion that my charitable spirit had made a satisfactory offering. Just like that, I was back to normal.

I have decided that I may not be the biggest fan of princess birthdays. However, maybe I managed to get all the bad out of the way all at once and this year will be the best yet. That’s what I’m hoping for, anyway. In particular, a job. A job would be nice. Preferably a job that is actually in a field I want to be in. Yes, that would be very nice. Get on that, Santa.

I was going to write a more thoughtful post reflecting on the past year and discussing my hopes for the coming year, but…. I’ll do that later.

Instead, I will answer some (but not all!—some of those lend themselves more to a post of their own) of the questions you guys asked me.

Belfry Bat asked, “So… What do you want for your birthday?”

You know, I always cringe when people ask me this question. I really should spend a few hours a month or so in advance and actually think about it. I always see things I’d love to have but then never remember later. Given how much stress I’ve been dealing with lately, all my mind can think of is, “A job that pays the bills and to be joyful.” Or maybe some inspiration for a novel. See, these are things that other people can’t exactly give me. Hmm. Oh. I wanted to try that “In the Library” perfume. Actually, pretty much everything in that collection. They all sound intriguing, which means they probably smell like ammonia and grass. I’ve been wanting pretty boots—I’ve never owned boots!—and a new leather jacket. Books are always good. Maybe I should just be directed to a bunch of clothing store websites and Etsy and peruse for hours on end? Or, you know what? Just send me on a vacation to Ireland and get me a lovely Irishman and I’ll be happy.

Jen asked, “What grammar thing annoys you the most?”

ALL OF THEM. Okay, the most? That’s difficult for me to narrow down (ooh, there’s one right there—saying “hard” instead of “difficult”; while “hard” is technically acceptable, it just doesn’t sit well with me, blargh). I really dislike it when people confuse adjectives and adverbs. Comma usage (er, lack thereof) with regards to addressing people. I also dislike it when people capitalize improperly in titles. Then there’s the lovely nonstandard “alright,” but I guess that’s all right. All is right. Maybe Al is, too.

You know what? Scratch all of that. I hate the way the majority of people type online. It just doesn’t even resemble English anymore. I recently heard the popular phrase “makin’ moves” to indicate that one’s getting ready to go out. What? What, what, what, what, what? People are making me feel old. I have to Google the meaning of half these phrases, or look them up on Urbandictionary (eeek), or ask my roommate. I shouldn’t have to. I am proficient in the English language. I shouldn’t need a translator for these things. Let’s not even TALK about some of the acronyms people are using these days… but if you would like to talk about them, hmu sometime.

Jen also asked, “What is different about your life today than you expected it to be five years ago?”

Ha! 5 years ago would’ve made me, what, 19? Hmm. Well, I had no idea that I would have already graduated from grad school. I always sort of expected that I would go to grad school, but I didn’t think I’d go straight from undergrad to grad and I didn’t know which direction I would turn, though I think I chose something that fits me perfectly. I also didn’t expect that I would be near the poverty level and unemployed. I sort of took it for granted that I would land a job relatively quickly out of school, and that certainly hasn’t been the case at all. I also wouldn’t have thought that you would need 1-3 years experience for an entry-level position.

And then, of course, there’s the elephant in the room, or at least this blog. I thought that I would be living in a different northeastern state by now, living with someone very different than the person I am living with. I had started this blog with my ex-boyfriend. It was a long-term relationship, and a very serious one at that. It has obviously dissolved since. 5 years ago, I had taken it for granted that I would either be engaged or married at this point in my life. I don’t regret that I’m not; I’ve needed the time to finally focus on me and figure things out for myself without having to worry about planning or considering another person in that regard (I’d be lying if I still don’t, though—family and friends, of course). It was ultimately a good thing. I was headed very quickly down a path that I would’ve been able to handle but which wouldn’t have made me happy. I still have that opportunity, and I’m older and wiser now to be able to (hopefully) discern the proper path.

I also expected that I’d be shoulder-deep into working on a book by now, but I haven’t had the inspiration I was hoping for. I’m okay with that, too, mostly. I need to read a lot more before I write. I think it was Johnson who said that half the books in a library need to be read before one can be written. I’m working on that right now.

Wow, I sound all Debbie Downer over here. Bet Jen’s wishing she didn’t open this can of worms. I mean, my life isn’t at all what I expected. It’s not one of the better parts of my life, but I do recognize that it’s one of the more important parts. It’s formative. How I handle this time will affect how I handle everything else. It’s giving me the opportunity to make changes and to recreate myself, and I’m very fortunate for that, if nothing else.

Besides, there are plenty of awesome things that I didn’t expect. I have 2 beautiful nieces, a nephew on the way, and I have another brother and sister in the family. I’m also much closer to both my siblings, my sister in particular, than I had ever dreamt, and that’s the sort of stuff that’ll still be with me 5 years from now, the rest (hopefully) won’t be.

On Being Catholic

23 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in Catholicism, NaBloPoMo 2010, Religion, Thinkings

≈ 3 Comments

“At least six times during the last few years, I have found myself in a situation in which I should certainly have become a Catholic, if I had not been restrained from that rash step by the fortunate accident that I was one already… I could not abandon the faith, without falling back on something more shallow than the faith. I could not cease to be a Catholic, except by becoming something more narrow than a Catholic. A man must narrow his mind in order to lose the universal philosophy; everything that has happened up to this very day has confirmed this conviction; and whatever happens tomorrow will confirm it anew. We have come out of the shallows and the dry places to the one deep well; and the Truth is at the bottom of it.” –G.K. Chesterton

In the time that I’ve been Catholic, I’ve often asked why I did it—sometimes asked accusingly, sometimes confusedly, sometimes curiously—but it’s a question that pops up frequently. When asked anymore, I will often tell people that it was my first Easter away from home and it seemed as good an idea as any to ensure I had somewhere to go. I used to respond quite sincerely, readily willing to share my enthusiasm and love for my faith. However, I quickly realized that many non-Catholics weren’t particularly interested in what I had to say unless the story contained coercion or financial difficulties or a witness protection scenario. These things would’ve garnered sympathy for my plight. When they found out that I came more or less willingly, well, the sympathetic symphony quickly pulled back with the ever polite and condescending, “Ah.”

Lest you think I’m judging, I should inform you that I took the news less gracefully myself. You see, I believed in God, and I talked to him (pray seems more sophisticated and misleading) occasionally, usually mentally battling him on any number of things, (In my head, we were wearing Sock’em Boppers while I would angrily grit my teeth and argue, and God would politely stand there and smile indulgently at me while I hit him and then just as politely and far more elegantly refute everything I said, only making me angrier because he’s right, of course, and because he wouldn’t fight back.) and while I liked him, I wouldn’t say I worshipped him. Perhaps I did in my way, in what I was capable of without any formation or real knowledge of truth, but it is not what I would consider worship. I also wouldn’t say that I would have ever really seriously considered organized religion. I looked upon the whole institution with a rather smug disdain. So, when the call to Roman Catholicism came, I didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat or open the door beyond unlocking it, chain on. I was amused. I was dubious. I thought I was going mad. It kept happening, though, and had it not been a deep-seated knowledge of who and what kept calling me, I’d think it was Jehovah’s Witnesses.

And therein lies my point. I was chosen. At that point, I had a choice whether to accept that or whether not to. I obviously did, but to say that I came to it on my own and that I picked it would be giving me far more credit than I deserve. For the purpose of this post, however, I did answer that call, and I continue to do so daily.

Many people, especially now, do not understand that. How could I enter into a faith community—follow the Church, the Pope—when it houses so much evil? How could I willingly love an institution wherein some of its leaders abuse its flock, irreparably in some cases, and lead them astray from God and the Church in most? How could I justify joining a Church whose leader condemns the use of condoms in HIV-riddled nations? How could I voluntarily align myself with a religion that “hates” homosexuals and tries to exercise its power over its members in the political arena?

These are the questions I get asked. Some are founded, some are based on misinformation and unfortunate misunderstanding of the Catholic Church’s teaching and views. These aren’t easy questions, least of which being because I am not particularly eloquent and the other individual is often quite fixed on his or her viewpoint of the topic.

It makes being an apologist difficult. I get afraid to say what I believe, because experience has taught me that people will judge me, and harshly. They won’t hear what I’m trying to convey or the intention behind my words; they’ll hear what they want to hear. Jesus tells us that those of us who follow him will be hated. Hate is a strong word, but I certainly get a particular vibe of intolerance and occasional disgust whenever certain topics are brought up. Maybe that’s a consequence to be expected when most of your acquaintances are not, in fact, Catholic or, as the case may be, devout or practicing Christians. (Note: I said acquaintances, not good friends.) It’s still not easy, though. Fear of being loathed, of being ridiculed, often triumph over my mental reminders to be myself, the end result being that I generally just keep quiet and respond in my head. [Read: total coward.]

I am, however, unabashedly and unreservedly Catholic. I am proud to be. I know I went through a great period of doubt and self-reflection to get to where I am today. What was an unbid nudging became a conscious choice. While I may be too fearful to get into the hot topics with people all too willing to rip me to shreds, I have no reservations saying that I am very much Catholic and I abide by that faith.

My Church is run by flawed humans, some of whom hurt my Church, some of whom glorify it. It is not perfect. However, tt is the perfect representation of any family. It brings to mind Erasmus’ words: “I put up with this Church, in the hope that one day it will become better, just as it is constrained to put up with me in the hope that one day I will become better.” Hope. I have hope, not only for my Church, but for myself.

Ask Me

22 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in NaBloPoMo 2010, Randomness

≈ 6 Comments

Ask me anything [read: within reason and propriety]–personal questions or requests that I address a certain topic in a post. This gets me out of writing a real post for today, and it gives you a chance to actually read something you’re curious about in the near future. I also believe I have some new readers who, like me, would rather not go back in archives to find out information, and I’m painfully aware that my About page is lacking. (I really will get on that someday, and maybe in the not too distant future!)

So, have at it. Anything you want to know or want me to tell you.

(Confession: I figured this was a good way to get a post in without effort because I don’t anticipate that I’ll have many–or any–questions/requests. I’m sometimes lazy.)

Sleeping on It

21 Sunday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in NaBloPoMo 2010, Randomness

≈ 3 Comments

Be forewarned, this is an entirely serious post. It will most likely seem quite ludicrous to you, and that’s perfectly understandable. I feel the need to clarify that this is serious because I have been told that I am occasionally sarcastic and, given the topic, I could see why you might be led to believe that I am making crap up in order to get through NaBloPoMo (don’t think I haven’t considered it). So, onward, ho!

In case you were unaware, I suffer from anxiety disorders. Yes, plural. Yes, diagnosed. Yes, really.

Last week when Alice was still here, she and I went to the playground. There was a man playing fetch with his dog at the playground. Alice beheld the scene in wonderment and then she picked up a stick off the ground, looked at me, and then threw it. Then she looked at me again. I wanted to laugh, because surely she was joking. She then grabbed another stick, pointedly looked at me, and threw it. It was then that I was filled with confusion, because obviously the kid was serious, and then I came to the stark realization that my niece is crazy. Now, anyone with an anxiety disorder or an anxious disposition will tell you that being among the mentally well in situations where anxiety is triggered is not far off from that. They just don’t get it; it seems crazy to them.

I could write a novel on the things that make me anxious that would probably make you wrinkle your forehead in confusion. Not planning out my walking route in advance. Deviating from my walking route—by which I mean the exact points of the sidewalk I choose to cross at, and it’s probably not what you would logically choose. Walking with others because I don’t know where they plan to cross. Walking on the right side of someone. Dark water. Lots of white. Cheerfully bright bedding. Serving myself in front of others. Eating in front of others. Seeing people I know when I don’t expect to/haven’t planned to.

Really, the list goes on and on. I’ve very recently added a new one, and it’s bothering me. A lot.

I move around a lot. I prefer the middle of the bed, but then I have this fear that I’ll put an indent in the middle of the bed and thus render either of the actual sides of the bed unsleepable because my body will gravitate towards the indent in the middle. So, I rarely sleep in the middle. That’s not the issue, though. I normally alternate between sleeping on the left side and the right side of the bed. I prefer the left. I hate, hate, hate sleeping on the right side of the bed, so I always get anxious whenever I have to sleep on the right side, but I want an even bed, so it’s just something I have to do.

Except I’ve actually been sleeping better on the right side of the bed. I found a particular configuration of my pillows that work only when I sleep on the right side since I sleep with my head turned to the left. I can’t replicate the comfort on the left side. I prefer the left side. The right side makes me anxious. The right side provides me with better sleep.

I’m not entirely sure what the purpose to this post is other than to express my consternation over the fact that a recent development in finding better sleep also coincides with an anxious tic. Plus, I can’t really write about any of my other current troubles, so this will have to do.

Oh, and for the sake of clarification, this post actually is about my bed, not politics. Politics probably would’ve made me seem a little more normal.

Word & Question 6

20 Saturday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in NaBloPoMo 2010, Poetry, Word & Question

≈ 5 Comments

I’m not particularly enamored of this poem (ha!), but I needed to get it done, so it is what it is. I think the particular word and question combination was difficult for me to wrap my head around. Anyway, hop on over to Shredded Cheddar to read the other submissions for this month and compliment the poets’ works.

Word: dough
Question: Is my love in vain?

Would you have me cease? Hold my love at bay?
I will not fight against this love that God has wrought;
But if my love is foolish, I won’t sway.

I think about him ev’ry night and day.
In Cupid’s clutches I’ve been happ’ly caught.
Would you have me cease? Hold my love at bay?

The thought of love should make me buck and bray,
For long against the dough of love I’ve fought;
But if my love is foolish, I won’t sway.

I never thought I’d be such willing prey,
Forgetting all the heartache love once brought.
Would you have me cease? Hold my love at bay?

I hope and pray he’ll be the one to stay,
Because he’s who I didn’t know I sought;
But if my love is foolish, I won’t sway.

And even now I remain willing prey,
Not given to dubious word and thought–
Would you have me cease? Hold my love at bay?–
But if my love is foolish, I won’t sway.

7 Quick Takes

19 Friday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in NaBloPoMo 2010, Seven Quick Takes

≈ 4 Comments

1. Today, while working registration at a convention, a young man came up to me and said, “Hey! Long time, no see. How have you been doing?” I couldn’t place his face or recall ever having met him before so I politely asked him if I knew him. He brusquely replied, “I guess not,” and walked away before I could say anything further. More times than I can count, I’ve “met” people, thinking I was new to them since they were new to me, only to find out that they knew very well who I was and happened to sit behind or beside me in a lecture for a semester or were involved in something I was. I turn red every time, and I always feel so awful. I don’t know if this was the case or not, but I still felt awful.

2. Then again, one of the speakers at the convention remarked that I looked terribly familiar and asked me whether we had met before. I told her that I couldn’t recall having met or seen her anyway, but perhaps we’ve seen each other in passing on the T or in the city. Or maybe I just have one of those faces. I do rather blend into crowds being that my features are fairly nondescript.

3. Another person told me that I had beautiful hair today and asked me what shampoo and conditioner I use. I informed her that for the past 2 months I have been using baking soda and apple cider vinegar instead of shampoo and conditioner. She then politely smiled and said, “Ohhh. I see. Well, isn’t that nice?” as if I were crazy.

4. Speaking of which, I’ve certainly felt crazy this past week. My emotions have been all over the place, and this has been fairly disconcerting for me since I’ve always been adept at keeping my emotions in check. I’ve gone from extremely happy to extremely sad to extremely angry to extremely frustrated. I think I’m back to normal now, though. I hope. I’m unaccustomed to such emotional strangleholds. Maybe I’m becoming The Hulk?

5. I am turning 24 this month. On the 24th, actually. I was recently informed that this is my “princess birthday,” which I understand is when you turn the age that the date of your birthday lies on. I never knew such a thing existed or even what it means, but it sounds neat enough.

6. My roommate wants to celebrate my birthday tomorrow, because she will be in New Jersey to spend Thanksgiving with her family on my actual birthday. She keeps asking me what I want to do. I still don’t know, so I try to change the subject. I think she’s onto my tricks, though.

7. I have no plans for Thanksgiving to speak of. I’m still trying to figure things out. Staying in in my pyjamas and having a major Lazy Day is not out of the realm of possibilities, though. It actually appeals to me. What are your plans? Do you have any special holiday traditions? Any special holiday foods? My sister makes the best deviled eggs in the whole wide world. I hate missing Sarah’s deviled eggs. Sucktion.

Head over to Jen’s for more quick takes.

Alice Thursday: The “Yes, I Still Remember It Exists” Edition

18 Thursday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in 1000 Words, Alice Thursday, NaBloPoMo 2010

≈ 2 Comments

Hard at work writing her guest post. Or hard at work destroying my blog, I’m not sure which.

Playing in the dryer. I remember her mother shoving me in one once upon a time. Alice actually seemed to enjoy it, though… and she put herself there.

“Helping” Mama launder. (Hee. Sarah used to work in a bank, too. Small children, always the best accomplices.)

Alice is never happier than when she’s with her mama. I think her mama feels the same way.

So, if you say, “Alice, earmuffs!” Alice will do this. It’s pretty awesome. Sarah’s teaching her “blinkers”–to cover her eyes. I’m hoping she’ll have this down by Christmastime!

It’s true. I adore my Alice Elf, and I adore this picture.

Lindsay does not approve of the tiny terror trying to break her phone.

Or trying to call 911. It’s uncanny that she just so happens to love the combination of 9 and 1. I managed to catch her after 9-1. Another time she did 9-1-1-1. I’m very glad that you have to hit “talk” to call, but I’m pretty sure she’d be able to manage that, too.

Alice doesn’t like my nose. I don’t either, so I’m not terribly upset about her covering it. Although, I actually think she was dismissing me. I guess she didn’t want me and my big nose ruining her photo op.

I asked her how she felt about leaving me and going back to Indiana. Okay, no, not really. I think she cried because I had the audacity to reclaim my own phone. I might sort of be mocking her in this picture… I’m a great aunt, I swear! Well, okay, I’m a decent aunt. I just find her melodramatic outbursts to be funny.

I love her very, very much, though.

Where I’ve Been

17 Wednesday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in 1000 Words, Bostonia, NaBloPoMo 2010

≈ 2 Comments

Things have been extremely busy lately, so you may have noticed that I’ve occasionally backdated posts when before there weren’t any. Sorry for any confusion. I’ve just been busy.

This week I’m working at a convention in the city. This is the view that greeted me tonight when I left. It was a beautiful night.

My Sister, My Friend

16 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in Blargh, La Familia, NaBloPoMo 2010

≈ 4 Comments

I was awakened quite early this morning by the ringing of my cell phone. It was a call from the temp agency I work for saying that they had a day job for me. I was a bit confused, because I already was set to work today from 1-5, but I was informed that I was being taken off that assignment and put on this one since it’s a full day rather than a half-day. More money. Okay. I had an hour to shower, dress, and get out the door.

I had already planned to work today, but a full day is obviously a bit different from a half-day, and taking into account the fact that my sister and my niece are still in town, well, it wasn’t ideal. However, I need the money.

Right as I was about to get in the shower, my sister emerged from the bedroom. I guiltily and sadly explained the situation to her. Her only response was, “Okay. I mean, I’m sad that you have to go, but I’m glad you get to make money.” In many ways, that made the guilt and the sadness worse. Because she understands. Why can’t she just be an objectionable hosebeast? That would be the ultimate Guilt be Gone! But, no, she’s nice and understanding.

I showered, dried my hair, put on my makeup, and dressed. Alice was awake by that time, and I got to give her a hug and a kiss as I gathered my things to head out the door. Then I realized that I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.

Sarah produced a box of Pop-Tarts for me. I grabbed a package to eat on the T.

Then I remembered that I didn’t have anything for lunch either. I asked her if I could take another package of Pop-Tarts. She said I could. Then she gave me a bottle of water, asking me if I needed another one for the day. She handed me a banana and a small pack of Fig Newtons. Then she handed me a small can of Chef Boyardee lasagna. I gratefully accepted it all and shoved the items in my backpack, swung it on my back, gave her and Alice a quick kiss, and headed out.

My entire walk to the subway station, I wanted to cry. My sister and Alice are leaving tomorrow. I have to work tomorrow. I have to be at work at 7:30 in the morning tomorrow, so I have to wake up at around 4:30, which means I have to go to bed about an hour and a half after I get home this evening. I knew I had to work today, but I figured I’d get all morning with them as well as a couple of hours in the evening.

I seemed calm on the outside, but inside I was pitching a mental tantrum the likes of which would impress even Alice. It’s not fair. I’m pretty sure a black cloud followed me on my way into the city. Doom and gloom over here.

I mean, I already felt guilty. Since Sarah and Alice have been here, we’ve gotten to do nothing touristy. I got to take them into Cambridge to visit The Curious George store and to walk around Harvard (like Rory Gilmore!) a bit, but that was it. I told my sister that I felt bad about it, and she gave me this look like, Really, I Thought You Were Smarter Than That. She’s not exactly a city person to begin with, and Alice has been under the weather with gastro-intestinal difficulties due to teething [read: child’s in pain and miserable], so plans got set aside. Sarah got all super sweet on me and said that she didn’t mind, they love spending time with me, and that she’d figured we’d mostly be hanging out anyway. Plus, she reminded me, Bostonians are jerks who don’t appreciate how cute her child is and who don’t wave back when Alice waves at them. She assured me that she was having plenty of fun.

See how sweet my sister is, lying to me like that? If I had money, I’d buy her that steam mop vac thingymajig that she’s currently coveting.

But the point is this: crapnoodles, lots and lots of crapnoodles. And other, more eloquently worded emotions of woe. [Insert them here.]

Then I arrived at the place I’m working today (the people are inordinately friendly and kind, by the way). I sit down, and the first thing I see on the desk is a tiny placard, easy to miss, which says:

My Sister, My Friend

My sister was a playmate
I knew was always near
My sister was a protector
From every hurt or fear

We share a bond of closeness
We know will never end
We’re here for one another
My sister, my best friend

Hmm. She selflessly supported me when I had to leave this morning to work instead of spending time with her even though she drove 1000 miles to see me. She provided me with food for breakfast and lunch so I wouldn’t go hungry. She did laundry for me while I was at work, and she picked me up from the T after I got off work.

I don’t think I’ve ever needed that placard reminder more than today. Then again, I don’t really need the placard; I’ve got the sister.

Your Turn

15 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by Lindsay in NaBloPoMo 2010, Religion, Thinkings

≈ 5 Comments

I’m heavy with mood about something unbloggable, and this is something I’ve been meaning to ask you guys anyway, so now seemed as good a time as any to do it. Also, given my current state, this could potentially be very helpful for me.

As most of you know, I wasn’t raised in a Christian household. That is not to insinuate anything about my family members’ personal beliefs but merely to say that I had no religious upbringing whatsoever. I was told that God existed, and when we went to my paternal grandmother’s, I was exposed to the traditional Catholic mealtime prayers, but that was it. It was a secular household. I didn’t have a prayer regimen. I started regularly praying on my own in the form of tortured supplications from the age of ten on, but it was only for a few minutes each night. My prayer routine has evolved somewhat over the years, but it is still fairly…primitive, I guess. I’m still a neophyte to Catholicism, and I’ve never really had anyone take me under their wing to help me out in that particular area.

So, I’m wondering—what is your prayer regimen? How often do you pray? What do you pray? When do you pray? You don’t need to be Catholic to answer this. You don’t even necessarily need to be Christian. You can answer vaguely; I don’t have to know that you pray for your atheist sister-in-law—saying that you pray for an increase in faith for your family and friends (or the like) works just fine.

For those of you who aren’t the praying type, what do you do to de-stress that is your version of prayer?

If you meditate, that also counts! I’ve never tried meditation, so if you meditate, I’m interested! Tell me all about it, and when you tell me, pretend I know nothing about meditation, because I don’t.

Actually, regardless of what you choose to share, it’s probably safer to operate on the principle that I’m not particularly bright and don’t have any clue what you’re talking about.

And I know what my stats are. There are a lot more of you reading than are commenting. Consider your response to this post a personal favor to me. I really am curious what people’s answers are to this.

Very Sleepy People