32 and Single

So, I'm single. I was talking to some fellow co-workers and stating that I couldn't have a blog because I don't have a family (ie children) to blog about. Nikki told me I should create one since some of her favorites are by her single friends, so HERE I AM.

I was reading the book, "The Last Single Woman in America" recently. Appropriate? I thought so. I'll be honest, though. The book? Not so great. If any of you have taken any psych rotations the word I would use to describe this book would be "word salad" [Word Salad (verbal salad): Word Salad describes a very jumbled manner of speaking in which words are put together even though they don't form meaningful sentences. For example, a sentence such as "market dog blue asphalt" -- these words all have meaning but not when put together in this fashion. Schozophrenics often display this type of speech.] Thank you, AlleyDog website, for the definition. Although this book was difficult to follow, I am a very stubborn girl. I had to finish. I cannot start something and not see it through. I am glad I did, though. I tell you what.....I got to page 282 out of 290 pages and there was this quote regarding the description of what "love" means to this author. I mean, JACKPOT! So, here goes......My new favorite quote:

"But maybe you have to be a little crazy. Maybe two people have to be a little crazy at the same time. Maybe that's what it takes to transform fantasy into reality. Maybe that's how you find yourself old, gray, and walking down the street holding hands with someone whose life is so completely intertwined with yours that they feel like one and the same. And maybe then you go home, help each other out of your diapers, laugh your heads off, have hot geriatric sex, and top off the night by silently praying to God that the clown lying beside you doesn't screw up your funeral. I don't know. I haven't made it that far yet.
But driving home, I started to think that trying to define being 'in love' was like trying to pick up a loose blob of mercury. I was having a really hard time getting a handle on it and wondering if it was even possible to come up with a universal definition. Ultimately, I just decided that being in love is like skunk juice. People try to describe its smell, but there's no way to accurately describe it. Then one day you're out in the world, you smell something funky, and you think, 'Hey, this is it -- skunk juice!'"

I can't wait for my skunk juice! More later.