Wednesday, June 8

I dreamed that my soulmate was a motel clerk in Jersey

I've really got to get a mini-cassette recorder for my car (a la Lloyd Dobler), because I am brilliant and thoughtful whilst driving (and I'm not even talking about the 1001 different ways I can curse other drivers out). On this morning's drive (and freakishly like Wil), I came to the conclusion that I give too much of myself, too easily. I don't resent that which I give to family and friends, because, for the most part, that comes back to me. (Hearing "I fucking love you, JenGarrett" can be the greatest thing in the world sometimes.) But the great dating experiment of 2005 is over. At least for now. Because if, like me, you're willing to give of yourself to someone else, you're not guaranteed anything in return -- other than someone taking what you're offering. And at this point, I'm sick of being a sounding board with boobs. I want someone to show an interest in my life -- an actual interest, not get just enough information out of me to expound upon what you want to say. I want someone to appreciate me -- not criticize, not put up with, appreciate. I know I'm strange and difficult and stubborn, people, but I'm also good times.

That said, I'm going to stop looking for that someone for awhile. Get some sleep. Run some races. Watch some games. Enjoy my life for what it is right now. Did I mention sleep? (Did I mention reunion is this weekend?) I'm going to learn to appreciate myself again. And then we'll see what happens.

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