Ch-ch-cherry Bomb

One of my livejournal friends is doing a 30 day meme. Yesterday she wrote about herself, today she wrote about her first love, and it's something for everyday for 30 days. Reading about her first love made me realize, for probably the 9th time this week alone, how very different everyone else's middle and high school years were from mine. I don't want to write another long entry about feeling like I missed out on everything because that's self-indulgent and whiny and there are many parts of my life that I wouldn't trade the memories of for the world. But it just seems clearer and clearer to me that people who can and do write do it because they have experience and adventures to draw from. Maybe, I am meant to be just a reader? I've buried myself in books since I could read, perhaps the rest of my life should just be that too? I mean, technically I am a reader though we're going on month two of barely any books. Maybe that should just be the end all. It wouldn't be too much of waste, helping others tell their stories?

The Runaways is showing on my On Demand. There's another story about little girls who acted like much older girls and lived crazy, amazing lives. Putting aside all the sex and drugs and drama- er, rock 'n 'roll, just look at them. I've been hunting for old pictures because man, they had great style. Short shorts and leather catsuits might not really work in my daily life but hey, I work from home for now. I could totally start dressing like them.









Actually, I just remembered I recently got a pair of leather shorts. No, no not like lederhosen. Great, now I have that image in my head.