I’m sorry that I haven’t written in a while. You see, I usually write for the blog during one of the many classes I am disinclined to pay attention in. However, I have started to solve the problem of disinterest by not going to class at all. This has been detrimental to my grades though, so I’ll probably be writing again more as I go to class more. Onward.
Devin is another in a long series of my friends who are abandoning me to live their lives. This is overdramatic and untrue; I haven’t really been abandoned, but a lot of my friends are moving on to other things. I have no girl friends left, as they’ve all gotten married and are now busy enjoying marital bliss (they say they want to stay friends, but they’re never around to do anything, rarely return calls, and generally can’t be depended on because no matter how far in advance you make plans with them, if their husbands feel uncomfortable, or if their other married friends call them up to go Tupperware shopping, they ditch you in a snap). All my guy friends are quickly being sucked away by the navy, marriage (the same complaints apply to married guys, except you can’t talk to them at all because their wives get jealous), and an aimless desire to move. Devin, that last one is you.
I actually sympathize with most of these people, as we’re all at the age where people expect our lives to be starting. Most of the people I know are actually successful at this, but the few of us that have no specific ambition in life, or no clear way to get there, are in a terrible bind. Especially since we live in Utah. Really, Utah is not the place to aimlessly ramble through life. So I guess I understand why Devin is moving away, and I support his desire to find someplace better to while away his time, but I’m still just a teensy resentful, because his leaving means one less friend that I get along with.
On a different, but related tangent, my mom is trying really hard to get me married. She’s constantly trolling around for boys to set me up with, and keeps asking me when I’m going to start dating in earnest. I thought my mom was cool with me taking my time and making my own decisions, but ever since high school graduation I’ve learned over and over again that that’s not the case. This is another symptom of adults expecting people my age to get their lives started. Too bad there’s no graceful way to say that my life probably won’t be fully started until I’m thirty-five.
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