H'ok, so

again, I do not know what to write about. This is the best blog maybe ever.

I would love to receive topics on which to write. Anything, I'll do it. However, I cannot accept pay because that is against strike rules.

Also, tomorrow I will write an entry for real, I am just tired, have to read a book, want to sleep, excuse, another one, and more. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.. on.. SARAH'S BIRTHDAY! Happy birth oh sister of mine. 25 and lookin fresh! While I'm on a roll, where's the butter?! No, that wasn't serious. What I was going to say was: While I'm on a roll, congratulations on your engagement, Sarah!

Oh, well, actually, that inspired a (cue trumpets) Rant Idea!

Marriage. A four letter word that means dedication, commitment, integrity, knowledge, sarcasm, annoyances, forgiving, balding, weight gain, and love. I began informally planning my wedding in about the fifth grade. Often, I would daydream about being pronounced "man and wife," at which point Leo and I would kiss, quite reminiscent of his scene with Kate Winslet, only with real-life emotions behind it. Life after that consisted of living off of my husbands wealth, basking in the presence of my multiple k-9 companions, and pretending to be bashful of the exemplary talents and drop dead good looks of our 4 blonde offspring. Unfortunately, like the Titanic, those seemingly unsinkable dreams, too, were eventually plundered.

By my, and my friends', parent's standards, I should be getting married in the next negative one to positive four years. In approximately 8th grade, the peak of my intellect, I sorted much of my life into specific time frames. Recently, I found a piece of paper from a planner (duh) that mapped much of my life. I was to be married by age 24, with children at age 26 and a half. Obviously, two years alone with my husband was not nearly enough and three was stifling! Furthermore, I was to have dated my husband-to-be for at least 3 years, with a preference on having known him for longer than even that. Eighth grade Juliet would probably look at fifteenth grade Juliet with some definite resentment. Luckily, I have chosen not to abide by the draft of life I comprised when I was 12 years old. Which, I'm sorry to say, according to the generated list would have included children with the following potential names: Kieta, America, Modi (???), Piper, Prue, Phoebe, Ashley (noted for a boy), Parker, Courtnii (again, male.) I would like now to point out that three of those names stemmed from a reverence for the television series Charmed, while two others are 2/3rds of an OTOWN member's name. Again, I'm sorry.

Despite my decision to disregard my former decisions, marriage is still a sometimes daunting thought for me. In all honestly, it's alarming when I hear that people my age are engaged or married or even talking about marriage because it is so far from my radar. Inevitably, I then assume that the reason marriage is not on my radar is because I am going to die alone. When I can avoid this thought, I do get nervous at how quickly the past few years of my life have whizzed by me, and I desperately long for a childhood that I am sad to have completed. Sometimes I wish that I could go back to maybe third grade and relive life to now, only relishing in every moment and appreciating my kid life. Everybody probably wishes that sometimes, I guess.

For now, though, I suppose I am happy to be at the place I am at. I do have a lot of life in front of me, and I certainly don't feel pressured to get married ANY time soon. Thank you botox, right? For my sister, though, I couldn't be happier that she has found someone with whom to take the "ultimate plunge." Right now, I'm just happy to be the sister (cough brides maid hint cough) who cries with her mom in the bathroom of her sister's wedding. And, who knows- maybe someday I will meet someone to act a lifelong child with me.

Here's to hoping.