Monk-woman from Neptune!
When you’re 21 you should know a bit about people, human interactions and the world in general. After all, you’re legally adult. That means you are considered capable of making difficult decisions like who to marry, who to vote for and what to do with your inheritance if you actually have one. Why then, am I so completely clueless?
I often wonder whether parents aren’t making a mistake by over sheltering their kids. I can understand the whole idea of protecting them from the world’s bad and broken, but then, once a child walks out of the shield he/she is incapable of differentiating between good and bad, and fixed and broken. I’m a terrible judge of people, and I can’t help blaming that on my mum and dad.
I’ve bitten off almost half of my nails, they’re embedded so low on the nail base that from far away you might think I don’t have any. I’m constantly fidgety, and can’t sit still. If I’m not biting my nails, I’m playing with my hair, or with my fingers or tapping my foot or clicking my pen. I feel like Monk without the brains and the observation skills. And the 6 cups of tea or coffee I take every day don’t really help.
Nothing irritates me more than a magazine editor who has no clue what he’s doing. Or maybe he does and is pretending he doesn’t. And I really really don’t like being taken for granted. Nobody does I’m sure, but for some reason people assume that just because they consider themselves my friends I should be willing to slave for them. I have a new strategy now though; it’s called give and take. The world has been using it for centuries but for some reason I came across it only a few months ago when I decided that the rock I lived under needed spring cleaning.
People glorify friends. Sitcoms, and medical dramas or comedies, and teen flicks all scream out “we are nothing without our friends!” and maybe they’re right. But life, I guess, isn’t a sitcom, or medical drama or teen flick because I haven’t met anybody I could sit and have coffee and talk about my daily routine with, much less my boyfriend’s (if God forbid, I ever have one, ) strange eating habits. Or maybe you only find good friends if you frequent coffee houses. Good he! I get to blame my lack of mental companionship on my parent’s strictness as well.