Throes of what?
Well, I finished
Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood with some wet eyes and a huge pang of regret for some of the things I've been... entertaining, to say the least. Regret, but not yet abstinence from the naughty ways that have been polluting my tunnel-vision world right now. While I can't place what is causing me to act out, I also can't say that I'm not enjoying it as well.
On this same plane, however, I feel like I'm being had. Or, I've been had. Or, rather, I've enlisted, knowingly, into some sort of codependent unrewarding/rewarding usery. Sometimes things do, in fact, change, but I think the majority of times, when one does something, knowing full well the masculine inclination, they do not change. That sentence is as cryptic as they come, I know. But do to my limited readership, I have to be... guarded. Long story short, I've signed up for something that I wasn't really signing up for, and now I may have shot myself in the foot by doing so. Word to the wise: Always keep your mouth shut, especially when in the throes.
PS. To Billy, who signed my guestbook, being most complimentary -- you can actually send those messages through MySpace, rather than having me wonder who the hell you are, other than your IP address, and subsequently Spartanburg, SC but sometimes/maybe NYC. Sincerement, Collette2005-03-30 | 4:32 p.m.
