I wonder what would have happened if Richie Valens lived long enough to become an overweight lounge singer. (Snaps to all of you who caught the reference.) It makes me wonder if I have enough time to do all of the things I intended to do.
These thoughts occur to me whenever I have a bad headache. I have one right now. I have been getting headaches on the front left side of my head for a few days this last week. I’m not panicking about it because after all of my brain trauma, I learned a lot about head pain. I’m pretty sure this is tension.
Except I have no idea why I’m so tense. I don’t feel especially tense, but clearly I am, because my head is hurty with the kind of ache that might go away from medication, but might not, but also might need a kickboxing class or something else. Who knows what it needs, because I don’t even know where came from.
I am also running low on tolerance for other people. I am very grateful that my roommate, Big Kid, is quiet and self entertaining, because I don’t think I could interact with anyone right now. Just reading articles on the intraweb is making me stabby. It seems that so many of the twenty-somethings are having the whines about how hipster boys only like hipster girls or are having difficulty understanding why their lipstick melts away over happy hour martinis, and really, does anyone care that flatforms are the new shoes to embrace.
Now I like martinis, and lipstick and shoes, but not to the point of being anxious about it.
Someone please tell these folk that the only cosmetic that really matters is sunscreen and moisturizer and shoes that actually support your feet and are comfortable. Drink one glass of water for each martini you guzzle, and for God’s sake, don’t smoke with that martini because nothing will suck off the lipstick or wrinkle up your skin faster than that. And as far as hipster boys go, stop giving a teeny tiny little rat’s behind what boys think. Find a man. Give up on boys.
Unless it’s Richie Valens. His brief career was great.