It’s OK when there’s nothing more to say to me

I’ve got to make a confession. Instead of writing (or rather, writing when someone isn’t paying me to do so), I’ve been cooking and watching CNN. This election stuff has its hooks in me.

So now, old notes from September 2007. I carried these around on scrap paper for months, trying to mold them into something cohesive, but it never happened.

I don’t need a man to rescue me. I’m not a damsel in distress, or a trophy wife in waiting. I’m self-sufficient (or at least, that’s what I tell myself). I can manage on my own.

But I want a white knight to save me—or if not to save me, exactly, to root me on, to be my “easy silence.”

… 

There are so many conflicting ideas of who a 26-year-old woman should be. Lately I’ve been hyper-aware of other people’s expectations of me—or what I think their expectations are—and have quietly become more determined to grow more and more into who I am.

I guess I’m in a very psycho-analytical place right now.

…more to come…