~ Edd
Ever since I can remember, people have been telling me, “you’re ridiculous!” And, they’re right. I’m a 6’4” pile of extra with a healthy dose of sass thrown in. I’m a 13-year-old girl perfectly blended with a crotchety old man. I go on stupid adventures, and then make a million excuses just so I can nap. I think in bad metaphors and speak in 80’s movie references. I can be unintentionally pretentious in a way nobody has really any right to be, but will also unironically GET DOWN on some glitter-party-era Ke$ha songs. So yeah, I may be just a bit ridiculous. I wear that shit like a badge of honor. Screw anybody that doesn’t like me! (Please like me.)
Ever since I can remember, people have been telling me, “you’re ridiculous!” And, they’re right. I’m a 6’4” pile of extra with a healthy dose of sass thrown in. I’m a 13-year-old girl perfectly blended with a crotchety old man. I go on stupid adventures, and then make a million excuses just so I can nap. I think in bad metaphors and speak in 80’s movie references. I can be unintentionally pretentious in a way nobody has really any right to be, but will also unironically GET DOWN on some glitter-party-era Ke$ha songs. So yeah, I may be just a bit ridiculous. I wear that shit like a badge of honor. Screw anybody that doesn’t like me! (Please like me.)
It took a long time to be happy
with myself. I’m 31 now, and finally comfortable in my skin… I have a lot of
skin, so that’s really saying a lot. I spent a lot of time being too cool for
school, literally being a figurative “rebel without a cause,” being a
chameleon, not realizing all that made a douche of the highest caliber. I could
wax poetical about my trials and tribulations, but nobody gives a shit. Hell, I
barely give a shit anymore (That’s a lie… I give ALL the shits.) Later, I spent
years being defined by my job, “Hey, my name’s Eddie and I’m a delivery
driver/construction worker/forklift driver/grumpy 25-year-old going on 50.” It
wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t making me happy. It took a long time, but I
realized I don’t give a shit about what I “do” so long as I get to do what I
want in my spare time.
I consider myself an adult. I do
things that are moderately adulty: I pay my own bills, I buy sensible shoes, I
pretend that my crippling student debt doesn’t exist or was at least in some
way worth it. I spent a lot time worrying about what should be making me happy, instead of what actually does. I thrive on experiences;
I’m all about the ride. They say sharing your experiences with somebody special
is fulfilling. I guess you’ll have to do. It won't be profound, it won't be
enlightening ,and it wont be classy, but dammit it will be funny.
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