I’ve been listening to Sara Bareilles constantly these past few days.

It’s not that I’ve given up on rock. That’s not even a possibility at all — my children will be air guitar-ing to Enter Sandman before they can walk.

It’s just that I’m not exactly in the mood to rebel right now, like I don’t have any strength left. My general aura right now is reeking with tiredness. I’m just tired. Completely, utterly tired. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that I had no choice but to give in to three days of near complete bed rest. I had no choice; just thinking made my head hurt.

The problem, though, is that tiredness is a general symptom of old age. I’m 25. Good Lord.

My mom, in particular, repeatedly reminds of this old age problem. Everyday she takes a look at me, asks me how old I am and shakes her head. “You should me married” is still ringing repeatedly in my ears.

I’ve learned, though, that saying I’m allergic to men is open to various scandalous interpretations. I know this from experience, having survived a mountain of accusations against my “gender preferences”. Once and for all, I am not interested in women.

I want to say I’m not interested in human beings in general, but that’s open to even worse interpretations.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 at 9:56 pm and is filed under nonsense, relationships. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.