Robots Are Better Than You
I can’t lie to you blog. You’re horribly intimidating.
I sat and worried about whether or not I could commit to you for a while now. I’ve weighed some pros. Some cons. Really, there aren’t many cons that I can think of. Maybe a con would be the fear of rejection.
Yes, that’s it. I’m sure there’s a 12 year old inside of me saying “Hey lady, remember when you had a competition to see who was the weirdest between you and that awkward kid and you won? Yeah…I don’t know if you realize that means they didn’t like you.”
Although, that makes no sense because when I was 12 I didn’t realize that they didn’t like me. Weird was cool.
So maybe there’s a 22 year old inside the 12 year old inside me telling me what things really mean and suggesting opportune times to bring up insecurities so that they have a good effect.
Otherwise it’s all an excuse to not write in this blog that so far only one person knows about. Which seems silly. It is silly. I’ll just go ahead and disregard these thoughts and push forward.
Okay, hi there! Still with me? Good. Very good.
I’m a 22 year old lady who lives in sin with her boyfriend, a dog that sheds a lot and a kitty that sees ghosts. I work a lot. Well, a lot in comparison to the very little I worked when in school. 40 hours. That’s a lot. I like to bake (obviously) and I love to have themes for things. Like parties. Or nights at the bar.
Will Smith party. Think about it.