I am a pretentious little (well, 5'7, so average?) shit. I realize that now as I reread my past posts. I want to apologize to you lovely people, but I'm not that sorry. I am who I am. I could fix it, but then I'd be perfect, and that's no fun. And this not my way of forcing all of you to disagree with me by telling me that I am awesome and in no way, shape, or form have I ever acted like the smart ass that seeps out of my comedic (to me at least) musings. I am, however, accepting compliments in the form of how cute I was as a baby (just look at my profile picture!) and how soft my hair is (no bragging, it's just the truth). Those never get old.
I could begin a new transformation, start wiping the smug off my face and appeal to the world as a humble person. But it's too late for that, and I do like knowing that I'm better than you. And you may smile at this, and think that I'm so clever and just joshing, but it's the truth. I am. But you don't care, because you think that you're better than me for having the same exact thoughts but better sense than to post them on a blog. And I can't say that I disagree with you; but no matter what you say (or think) I am definitely better than you.
I blame my parents for this attitude, just as you should blame your parents for your high self-importance. They think we are, as the flappers and hopefully no one in this day and age would say, the bees-knees. We're not perfect, no, but our wrong doings are quickly erased every time we do something extraordinary. In their minds, of course. To everyone else who didn't raise you from birth, it's worthy of a giant eye roll. Our parents (at least mine, because they're awesome. Or were, RIP Pops) raised us to believe that we are special. No, we are beyond special: we are truly unique. Sadly, all of us unique individuals are not so. We go out into the world, meet new people, and are astonished to believe that they have the exact same interests/talents/tastes as us! WHAT? Surely this means a long lasting friendship! How odd that I have found someone exactly like-oh wait, that other person over there is just like me as well-and that person. Fuck. Thanks a lot, Ma. Parents are the reason American Idol auditions are the most entertaining part of the show. They fill us with so much confidence in our minimal skills that we don't have the good sense to separate the subjective from the objective.
I don't really know the point I'm trying to get across-oh, yes I do. Even though I have a high opinion of myself that may or may not be true (jury's still out), I could care less, because without it, I just wouldn't be me. And you guys would be at a loss of being able to judge someone on a monthly basis (or whenever I get around to posting). AND, furthermore, this blog would be put to use for something super boring, like cats or the knitting pattern I'd just finished. And no, I'm not saying cat stories aren't fun. If you knew me, you know I love me some cat stories. But I am aware that not everyone enjoys them as much as I do. And knitting is super...cool. I know nothing about it, but I'm sure the fuzzy scarves are definitely worth the time put in. Please don't stab me with those needles Mags.
Just a reminder to the ones I consider friends, remember how you perceived me before you read this? Just stick with that image. This never happened.
