Friday, July 8

A sense of my own mortality or a fear of death

My sister's wedding is officially next week (unofficially, it's also next week). I've initialized full panic mode to commence in T-minus three seconds. I've started having anxiety dreams about the wedding, which I think is a little odd since I'm not the one getting married. Today was my final fitting for the bridesmaid dress, and I helped my mom pick out her dress as well. (Well, really my sister Dawn did the helping and I did the standing around looking lost and saying things like, "Yeah, that looks good.")

So, if you take a wedding, a terrorist attack in London, and add in an impending birthday of ominous numbers, you've got one fairly freaked out Jen. And by freaked out, I mean compulsively eating potato chips, playing computer games, and watching the Sox like my life depended on it (thanks for the win tonight, you skinny bastard). I've also thrown in some introspection and lots of "Why the fuck didn't I misspend my youth when I had the chance?!" for good measure. I haven't come to any conclusions -- well, other than: Life is short. Terrorists suck. Potato chips are tasty, if bad for you. And little sisters do, in fact, grow up.

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