Number .05 - Four Years Later

This post was intented for 3/14/15... Only now to be posted over a year later.... I post it now exactly as I left it in the draft, as I fear editing it now is only disruptive to how I was then. Haha

I started this blog 4 years ago, with only 4 posts. My favorite number is 4.  Random coincidence?

I've grown a lot in these 4 years (not necessarily grown up, but grown). When you have a personality like mine, there is no settling, so it's only natural I've grown. Let's be honest here... life is too short to 'grow up' and by grow up, I mean be lame and serious ALL the time.  Ugh! Boring!

Nearly all of my friends, family, colleagues and acquaintances have wed and had a baby, or one or the other or both, or whatever. I'm an Aunt and a Godmother at 28 years old. Then again, I'm 4 months from being a Master's Student and I'm the only one of my group who can say that.  I'm happily single with no plan of dating anyone soon.  I've dated a lot here in Las Vegas. I'm tired of men (wait... I mean boys) in Las Vegas.  Not one of them bring 100% to the table. Then again, I read this article today in a magazine (I think Cameron Diaz was commenting on this) and it said that in a relationship, both people have to be at the same point in their lives separately, in order to be one together. For example, if one person is ready to be in a real long-term relationship and the other person is just testing out the water, then it will never work. Both parties must be in the same 'stage' of readiness or life or whatever. I related to this because all the men I've dated are not on the same page I am. I've had flings, I've had 'serious' relationships where I thought I was in love.... none of them worked because we were never meeting at the same stage. Anyway... I digress.

What the hell have I been doing for 4 years???? My god.  I'm alive. So that's a success.  I've always thought I would die young. Seriously.... for as long as I can remember (which, let's be honest, only goes back to my young teens) I thought I would die young.  Maybe cancer. Maybe a car accident. Something tragic for sure, where lots of people would feel sad enough to come to my funeral, which of course would be a party at the beach.  But yeah... I don't know why I've always thought that. Weird, I know...

Do you ever have recurring dreams?