If nominated could be described as an adjective, that is. I like when people mention me in a good light; hell, who doesn’t?
An awesome author I follow recently posted a link to my blog on her Facebook page. That was sweet of her. Check out Shannon A. Thompson’s blog by clicking on her cat, Bogart, below. Thank you, Shannon.
Shannon shared my blog as an Inspiring Blogger Award. And with it, I supposedly should share a few facts about myself, plus some blogs I’d recommend. Clearly, I’m too lazy to think up seven whole facts about me, and then illustrate them. (You should’ve seen that coming!) So, here they are:
Here are the three blogs I recommend:
IzzyBlog: I like his (or her?) illustrations, and make it a point to check on them every day.
Do we realize that nobody is actually watching but we act like they are?
At what age do we start believing that if everyone else jumped off a bridge we should too?
Can we tell ourselves that its okay for us to accept real romance, casting aside our adolescent dependence on fun without deep meaning?
At what age do we begin to ask ourselves “Where did I leave the TV remote,” knowing we should have traded in the tube for a bicycle?
At what age do people stop looking for what’s wrong about us and welcome and embrace the best we can give?
Maybe I’m wishing hopefully here. Maybe I’m not. I live alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. I’m a regular Harold Crick. I feel in love. In love with the sadness of feeling alone. Alone with the sadness of knowing I am grown up beyond those my age. Alone wondering at what age will the girl I want to love be able to accept that I’m me. I am someone who wants to give love.
At what age will I be allowed to experience love?
I don’t. Not having experienced it yet is making me feel twice my age. Feeling older every day. Can a 28yr old be 56?