I'm not sure anyone knows this about me, but I love to rant. That is, quite possibly, the reason my url is cathrynlovestorant.blogspot.com...
Anyway, I've tooled around with starting a blog several times. I've started and stopped, and sometimes I keep a journal, but not very often. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing I start doing regularly. Right now, in this moment at 11:28 p.m., the night before my aunt's funeral, it sounds like a fucking awesome thing to do. I've got all these convictions RIGHT NOW, but who's to say it'll pan out in the end? I guess only time will tell. You see, I'm a procrastinator at heart and loathe doing anything in the moment that doesn't bring me immense satisfaction. Conversely, I love helping people. I feel it is my God given duty to help as many people as I can every day.
In all seriousness, I do like helping people, and I don't think I do it enough. I love making others happy and bringing a moment of joy into what could possibly be the worst day of their life. I don't know some of these people. I don't know what they've gone through or are going through. It's not going to hurt me to be cheerful to strangers or be cheerful to my friends. It won't cost me a thing and doesn't take much effort. So I do it, and it makes me feel better.
I'm actually not sure why I'm posting this, or what it's about. It's just me writing everything that comes into my brain without a second thought, much like vomit. You can't stop it, and it makes you feel better when you're done. So I guess this is word vomit. That's a nice way to put it I guess. I'm the Virginia Woolfe of blogging. By the way, I'm an English major, so these types of jokes might show up here occasionally. I'm not a very good English major, in the sense that I don't get many of the jokes. I can't make them very often either, but I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on. I love all types of books, I am literally always reading something, and you won't find a more dedicated 22-year-old to the study of Shakespeare, which I plan to make the concentration for my doctorate...someday.
I will be a teacher. A junior high teacher to be exact. I've been called crazy several times, but that's okay. I know I am, and if you're reading this you already know I'm crazy, because you more than likely know who I am, as in you've met me in real life. But the point of this...paragraph, I guess, is to inform anyone who MIGHT not know who the fuck I am that I want to be a teacher. Children are also my passion, along with music. I'm not sure it's possible to have three passions, but I know that I care about English, children, and music a whole whole lot. I want them to be a part of my life every day.
I think that's all I'm going to write now, because I have to get up in approximately seven hours and get ready to go to my aunt's funeral, then go talk to people I probably don't want to be around for hours and accept a shitload of condolences when all I really want to do is go home, pop in a string of movies that will make me laugh or cry, get blindingly drunk off my ass, and hang out with my friend who's blown me off continuously for the past three weeks. You see, he's in a bit of a pickle. I'm not sure why, but I know it has something to do with girls, and though I am, in fact, a girl, I'm like his sister and am therefore exempt from his current frustration with the female population. And though he has shown a spectacular lack of interest in my life and troubles, he is in need of a friend now, and that is what I am providing for him. My friendship, my booze, and my comfy bed to lay on and watch movies. That is, that's what I will offer him when we hang out. If we hang out. Because he might not come over and hang out tomorrow, which would be true to form. Blowing me off is kind of like his sport. Wow, that was an extremely pathetic and self-pitying remark. Oh well.
That's another thing you should know. I am annoying as fuck sometimes, but you will never find a more dedicated friend. I care for a lot of people, but I only care about a few of them. Once my friendship is offered and accepted, it's damn hard to get rid of me. You have to do some pretty dick bag things to get me to stop being your friend. Be warned though: my friendship, once rescinded, is almost impossible to get back. It's hard for me to forget betrayal or dick bags. And if you, at any point in time, realize what you lost when you lost me, I feel little sympathy for you. You had me, and you were stupid enough to lose me, so you probably don't deserve me back. I realize this is a high opinion of myself, but I know how far I'm willing to go for my best friends and my family, and it's pretty damn far. Some might call it insane, but those who are lucky enough to experience it aren't complaining. So they take me as I am: whiney bitch and all, because they know they will always be able to count on me.
I guess I should put a disclaimer on this blog. It might be better to do it at the beginning, but if you're still reading, I assume you're interested. I have a unique brand of humor. It's a healthy mix of self-deprication, inside jokes, random statements, and is full of piss and vinegar. If you get offended by anything I say, please feel free to stay the fuck off my blog. This is my baby, and I will write anything I want on here. That being said, if you genuinely have a problem with something I've said and you count yourself as one of my friends or family members, feel free to call me and tell me. I'll try to explain myself as best as possible.
Okay, I'm for reals going to bed now. I have to, or I'll keep ranting about nothing really. Because this blog entry is currently about...nothing.
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