What if...

I didn't feel any emotion?
I knew exactly what my future held?
I could make a decision and not second guess myself?
I wasn't afraid of being vulnerable?
I always assumed the best in people?

What if?

It's a vicious game I play with myself.  I hate that I do it.  I'm happy.  I promise I really am.  It's just that sometimes I get sucked in, and it takes a while to work my way out of it. 

I just want to be my best.

Recent

The following are real life events that have occurred within the past week

I went home last Friday and stayed away until yesterday morning.  

On Saturday I went to the eye doctor for the first time in six years.  Yep.  My eyes have gotten worse.  Dr. McKell informed me that my "good eye" actually isn't that good, and my "bad eye" is still awful.  Had he not been so attractive and single I would have felt a little more anxiety at paying for the contacts he had prescribed me.  At only 8 years older than me, maybe I stand a chance.  After all Jane Austen heroines have been known to marry men more than 15 years older than them. 

Also this weekend, my roommate, Melissa, asked me to feed her fish while she was gone.  But then I left... I came back and Lester, that's the fishes name, wasn't on the counter anymore.  I was petrified I had starved it to death, perhaps it could have died of neglect.  But, no worries... I snooped in her room and found him on her dresser.  

Here's a picture of him, happy as can be.  

Another groundbreaking event that ought to be documented.  Yesterday I needed to buy milk, but I didn't want to buy a whole gallon because I'm moving on Monday and I won't drink it all in time.  So...  I bought the half gallon and as I walked out with my groceries I realized my milk was screaming, 

 "SINGLE, LONELY, AND ON THE VERGE OF OSTEOPOROSIS!"

Why do I feel that way?  Let me explain.  Let's think about it.  Really, only women who have nobody to help them drink their milk, and don't even drink milk... except with late night oreos while living vicariously through yet another romantic comedy, only they buy half gallons. 

Next thing I know, I'll be collecting porcelain cats like my 

 friend Sam, who "is slowly becoming the crazy cat lady down the street, except he is a boy."

But, you know what?  I'm okay with all of that, and the world could probably use a few more porcelain cat collectors, am I right?

Next, I've done a very monumental thing.

  I've had these shoes since the 10th grade.  They've been a faithful companion for 5 years, they've done me proud and got me through several dances, long days at school, walks in dreary winter weather, and vacations all across the country.

Considering I can feel the pavement under my feet when I walk, yesterday I decided it was time to retire them... 

A moment of silence, please. 

.

.

.

 Thank you.  

In other news, today has been a long day.  When I got home from work today I contemplated beginning to pack for the move on Monday.  Just thinking about it made me even more exhausted.  So, I decided to go for a bike ride to the grocery store to buy garbage bags so I could "pack" my clothes.  Once back from Smith's, I gave into the temptation of a nap.  It was about 6:30 PM and I hit the sack.  Approximately two hours later I woke up in a panic, as I checked my clock, it said 8:19 and I lunged from bed running into the kitchen shouting at my roommates, 

"CRAP!  I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AT WORK 19 MINUTES AGO!!!"  

I was positive I had slept through the night and it was 8:19 AM.  

Jokes on me.  I felt a little foolish when I realized it was still Thursday night.

Am I experiencing a bit of subconcious anxiety about work and PA's right now?  

So it would seem.   

But I'm okay now.  Nothing a little Barry Manilow can't take care of. 

God Bless Us, Everyone.  

Cheers,

Sydnie Juniper

The Close of a Teenage Dynasty

Here's the thing.  

Today is my birthday. 

HOORAY!  

But not just any birthday.  I'm now officially 20 years old.

That's cool... I guess.

The idea of being 20 is taking a bit of time to warm up to.  I hear that now that I'm not a teenager I can't get away with doing crazy and random things anymore. 

(Not like that'll stop me, but the taboo is there).

Where's the glamor in getting old?

For Pete's sake!  I had to use "anti-aging" body wash this past weekend.  

What's next? 

The occasional grey hair and wrinkle?

Menopause and MORE hot flashes?

Gosh.  I'm not ready for old age!  I've got a life to live!

Things to learn.  Friends to make.  Boys to kiss.  Tea parties to attend. Talents to develop.  Food to taste.  Forgiveness to ask.  Sites to see.  Goals to achieve.  Barriers to break. 

The list goes on and on.

And I want to soak it all in.

But then I suppose that really is the glamor of it all.  

It's just a matter of perspective. 

We'll all be old in the end, but we'll all take different paths there.

Life in the fast lane?  

Not for me, thanks for the offer anyway though. 

That's all about crossing things off the list, not so much the actual experience.  

I don't want the fast lane. 

How about the scenic byway?

Yeah.  Alright.  That sounds delightful!

Don't get me wrong.  I'm excited for retirement as much as the next person, but until then I won't be dreading getting older.  

Just living my life. 

Happy as a clam.

I may get older, but I'll never grow up. 

Cheers, 

Sydnie Juniper