So what if no one asked?

I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve had the need to talk about myself. To anyone who knows me, this is both shocking and nothing new. For some inexplicable reason, I both over-share and completely withdraw, causing me to be an open book that no one can ever seem to find. That doesn’t make sense, but it’s me.

I will offer the warning that I tend to ramble. A lot. I don’t have anything meaningful to say, but I’ll say it anyway, and in the least direct way possible. My thoughts aren’t profound or relevant, and I’m not funny or interesting, but I can’t seem to shut up. I’ve accepted that about myself. I’m not going to try to be clever, and you don’t have to be nice. Isn’t that better now that the pressure is off?

Just a few details: I’m a 30-year-old, married nursing student living in Los Angeles. I baby my pets, adore my dad, suffocate my younger brother, and try the patience of the few friends who still put up with my crap. I am a geek, a homebody, a nurturer, and a flake. I like old movies, bad weather, unattainable crushes, and thorough back-scratches. And I’m always doing something, even when it’s nothing at all.