I want everyone in the world (or the three people who actually read my blog) to know that I’m happy exactly who I am. Sure, a “key” to happiness is probably bull crap, but confidence is my key. That’s because God made me exactly the way He wants me. It’s a happy thought. Even those stupid things like how I am way too sarcastic most of the time come from my divine DNA (not doctrine, don’t quote me). But it’s totally cool. I’m rad.
Also, I’m super hilarious. I make myself laugh basically every other second of my life. The remaining seconds I spend sleeping. Or laughing. Or in pain with stupid headaches. Whatever. Pain means I get drugs which means I get uber happy again. Also, I’m funny cause I don’t care what people think about me in that “she’s strange” sort of way.
And adventure makes everything exciting, and it isn’t necessarily traveling the world. (By the way, job interview for Taiwan went well. Hoping a position will open up for February.) Adventure is changing your routine, learning something new, doing a headstand. Seriously. Try it. I can’t, they give me headaches. I found adventure in editing and writing cool things. (This doesn’t really count as cool; it’s actually pretty dull.) I’ve given up bumming with people who don’t like to have fun. I’ve got to laugh. E’ry day. Make me smile or I’ll throw myself into an industrial blender. Except when I’m sleeping. Even then, I get pretty funny at four a.m. One time my friends and I drove down to California from Idaho. We all slept (except the driver, hopefully) like roadtrippers do, until like three in the morning. Then we woke up and had a glorious time together. Strange how night does that to people. Day=serious. Though I’m a morning person. Always a morning person. So I’ll go to bed at nine and wake up at four and parteeee with all the sleepy zombies.
This isn’t like a normal essay with a thesis in the first paragraph and reasons in the body and a (w)rapper in the conclusion. I ramble. Get over it.
I do things I want to do. I have this idea that if you admit that something’s annoying or stupid or biased or naive, you’re allowed to do it without the normal repercussions. That means I can text someone six thousand times in a row with the preface of “I’m just about to be super annoying,” and they can’t do a single thing about it. Also, that means I answer to no one. I hate the idea of having to account for every second of my day to anyone (except maybe the Big Guy).
One time I kayaked down a river with a guy I had a super crush on. Oh, how lovely and romantic it could have been. Instead, I shredded all my thoughts through a filter until only gargles and bubbles came out. He never fell in love with me. That’s when I learned to stop caring.
This is me. Not caring. ♥
P.S. I graduate in exactly a week from this moment (give or take an hour or so). Good bye, Rexburg. Good bye, friends. The next few blogs will be dedicated to the people I will miss and the reasons I will miss them. It might be gooey and vomity. I hate sentimental rot.
False. I won’t write all the reasons I’ll miss everyone. That’d be boring.