"'Cause I got friends in low places,
Where the Whiskey drowns,
And the Beer chases my blues away,
But I'll be okay,
Now I'm not big on social graces,
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis,
Oh I got friends,
In low places."
Garth Brooks knows a thang or two about how I feel right now.
"It was immediate; I was taken over with nostalgia before the moment had ever even really passed."
If you're bored, you're boring.
"The writer writes for himself
Not for you"
I plan on taking up wine drinking this summer. And book reading. Matter of fact, it's astounding how elitist I act considering how overwhelmed I am by my long list of under achievements. Parenthood is the only facet of life I'm even remotely passionate about lately, anyway, yet the thought of potty training my unusually well behaved toddler twists my stomach into knots. Anxiety. Wants and needs, needs and wants. We all want to be needed, need to be wanted, are passive aggressively in each other's faces. I feel like I'm suppose to chain smoke while sitting at a bar lined with other thinkers, but as it turns out I have taken up solitude as my latest hobby. This has been the least social year of my life. I need an attitude adjustment.
