Sunday, January 04, 2004
Dangnabbit...
I've got to stop listening to music. That's all there it to it. Why? Because lately music has been making me weep like a little baby. And it certainly isn't the first time.
Today I picked up a used Beth Nielsen Chapman CD, remembering how much I love The Color of Roses and thinking I could probably find another song that I would love and that would go on my third mix CD. I was right, but I didn't bargain for the waterworks that erupted from my eyes. Same thing yesterday - in listening to a song that would up on Mix CD #2, I practically sobbed. I've probably cried at least three or four times in the last week.
Granted, I've been very emotional for some time now (gee, ya think?), but it's strange how and when it makes itself known. Hell, a few weeks ago I was sitting on FFDWG(KNaSarah)'s sofa, watching TV, and I got choked up at a stupid commercial. Okay, the commercial involved a father putting up Christmas decorations and, as my father has always been known for his extravagant outdoor decorations, I thought about how I'd probably never see him do that again. Still, it was a friggin' commercial, ferchrissakes.
Now, some might think that maybe, just maybe, I should see a doctor to make sure there's no bun in the oven, but considering I haven't had actual intercourse since the beginning of time, it seems - okay, for over a year and half - I'm not too worried about that. And I'm pretty sure G-d hasn't chosen me to be the mother of his next Saviour, what with me not being a virgin or saintly or anything like that.
(While LiterateLawyerGuy and I, shall I say, enjoyed each other's company immensely the two times we've actually been able to see each other, we've not done anything baby-making as of yet. See, we've been good. Honest.)
Then again, maybe it's just PMS again. I think I'm due next week (my cycle has been a little off the last couple of months, so I'm not really sure), so that awful PMS that has reared its ugly head over the last five or so years could be just saying, "Hi!" And when I PMS, I get weepy. And horny. I'm just a weepy, horny mess.
(You. Huddled over your computer like it's a friggin' campfire. Yeah, you. I heard you and I'm not "always horny". So stop your sniggering. Before I take an axe to your precious lil' PC.
That's better.)
This is the real reason I'd like to have a boyfriend (I'm 37 years old - is "boyfriend" really the proper word for the significant other of a sexy, vibrant old bat like me? Though if he were a young stud in his twenties, I could see how that might work - nah, I actually prefer guys in the same decade as me, if not a little older - where was I? Oh yeah...). For those times when I'm PMSing it sure would be nice to have someone to hold me when I cry, then fuck my brains out afterwards...
[...]
[...]
Sorry, my mind must have taken a little trip there for a second. And such a lovely trip it was...
[...]
Okay, I'm back again. Anyway. Yeah. WeepyGirl. HornyGirl. And GotToStopListeningToSoMuchMusicGirl. Which, considering I've pretty much immersed myself in music for the past few days - we're talking way over my head, practically drowning in music - I'm sure y'all can see the issue.
Or maybe I just need to listen to more Squirrel Nut Zippers. I think it is impossible to be weepy while listening to their music. There may even be a law against it.
The "crying while listening to SNZ", I mean. Not the actual SNZ.
I think.
Today I picked up a used Beth Nielsen Chapman CD, remembering how much I love The Color of Roses and thinking I could probably find another song that I would love and that would go on my third mix CD. I was right, but I didn't bargain for the waterworks that erupted from my eyes. Same thing yesterday - in listening to a song that would up on Mix CD #2, I practically sobbed. I've probably cried at least three or four times in the last week.
Granted, I've been very emotional for some time now (gee, ya think?), but it's strange how and when it makes itself known. Hell, a few weeks ago I was sitting on FFDWG(KNaSarah)'s sofa, watching TV, and I got choked up at a stupid commercial. Okay, the commercial involved a father putting up Christmas decorations and, as my father has always been known for his extravagant outdoor decorations, I thought about how I'd probably never see him do that again. Still, it was a friggin' commercial, ferchrissakes.
Now, some might think that maybe, just maybe, I should see a doctor to make sure there's no bun in the oven, but considering I haven't had actual intercourse since the beginning of time, it seems - okay, for over a year and half - I'm not too worried about that. And I'm pretty sure G-d hasn't chosen me to be the mother of his next Saviour, what with me not being a virgin or saintly or anything like that.
(While LiterateLawyerGuy and I, shall I say, enjoyed each other's company immensely the two times we've actually been able to see each other, we've not done anything baby-making as of yet. See, we've been good. Honest.)
Then again, maybe it's just PMS again. I think I'm due next week (my cycle has been a little off the last couple of months, so I'm not really sure), so that awful PMS that has reared its ugly head over the last five or so years could be just saying, "Hi!" And when I PMS, I get weepy. And horny. I'm just a weepy, horny mess.
(You. Huddled over your computer like it's a friggin' campfire. Yeah, you. I heard you and I'm not "always horny". So stop your sniggering. Before I take an axe to your precious lil' PC.
That's better.)
This is the real reason I'd like to have a boyfriend (I'm 37 years old - is "boyfriend" really the proper word for the significant other of a sexy, vibrant old bat like me? Though if he were a young stud in his twenties, I could see how that might work - nah, I actually prefer guys in the same decade as me, if not a little older - where was I? Oh yeah...). For those times when I'm PMSing it sure would be nice to have someone to hold me when I cry, then fuck my brains out afterwards...
[...]
[...]
Sorry, my mind must have taken a little trip there for a second. And such a lovely trip it was...
[...]
Okay, I'm back again. Anyway. Yeah. WeepyGirl. HornyGirl. And GotToStopListeningToSoMuchMusicGirl. Which, considering I've pretty much immersed myself in music for the past few days - we're talking way over my head, practically drowning in music - I'm sure y'all can see the issue.
Or maybe I just need to listen to more Squirrel Nut Zippers. I think it is impossible to be weepy while listening to their music. There may even be a law against it.
The "crying while listening to SNZ", I mean. Not the actual SNZ.
I think.
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