This Girl

My first sorry attempt to write about the perils of social media strove to answer the question, "Who are we and how did we get here?" As you can see from that post and from the follow up , there is no easy answer. In fact, I'm not even sure if there is an answer, for I still do not know the whole answer and nothing but. Here is what I do know: I am me, you are you and the folks looking in on our conversation from some undisclosed location (but let's face it, it is most likely their living rooms, where they are spending their time lurking in on us and not socializing with their families) are just plain creepy. But once again, as is my MO, I have severely digressed.

It's that time of year again. The colors are turning. The wind is blowing. The leaves are falling. The Boilermaker football team is disappointing. Yup. Thanksgiving time has arrived, and with it, my yearly not-meant-to-be-exhaustive and in-no-specific-order list of little things for which I am thankful. Here goes.

Dear Politics, There is no easy way to say this, so I will not try to sugar coat it. I will be blunt, but swift, so hopefully the sting will fizzle quickly. You, sir, are a bitch. I know, mean, right? I'm not sorry I said it. It is a fact and facts, necessary as they are, can hurt. The facts are indisputable. Facts are emotionless. Facts do not play favorites or lean right or left. Facts are sometimes hard to take. But facts do not lie. And the fact of the matter is that you, Politics, are a total bitch.

Given that I don't have kids, the title of this post may seem a bit odd. What do I know about planning for parenthood, right? I don't have much room to talk, right? Sure, I might not be one of the lucky ones who enjoys the joys of little bundles of joy, but I'm going to ask you to cut me a little slack before you judge. After all, at the age of nineteen, when I first moved away from home to prepare for a career in Radiography, I did not know I would be childless many moons later.