I am sick of thinking about boys. I just want to throw that one out there. I became boy crazy around the same time my "womanly curves" began to fill in way back around my 11th birthday and since then, it has been all down hill.
Recently, I came across this article on my favorite procrastination website, Thought Catalog. I agree with the title more so than the message contained within. Not because the message is false. I think it rings true, to some degree, for most of us. More so because the title didn't bring to my mind the same explanation contained in the essay. I'm not sick of thinking about boys because their opinions hold too much pull over my self-worth or emotions. I'm sick of thinking about boys because I have more productive things to do with my mental energy. And yet, ever since I looking into that blue eyed, buck-toothed face of my first crush in 2nd grade, there those gentlemen sit, atop my heart, nestled between chocolate and my bed.
Last night, I had a dream. The only action I remember in this dream involved my ex-boyfriend and I going to an ice cream parlor and....wait for it....eating ice cream. Now, never mind the fact that my subconscious had to drag ice cream into this nightmare when it was sitting around perfectly innocent, minding its own delicious business. But of all the potential ice cream buddies my mind undoubtedly has tucked away, why my ex? Why a guy at all? Why not a cheeky girlfriend to eat ice cream and gossip with? Now, after a record amount of time not thinking about real life Voldemort (he-who-shall-not-be-named...in case you didn't know where I intended that reference to go), he's popped up again. I'm not sad. I'm not angry with him. I'm just frustrated. Dear dream Liz, Chris Hemsworth was probably around the corner and he has a much better conversation style (read: voice).
But that's not all. I had a dream the night before another previous flame. And even as I sit here contemplating why I am thinking about these lads (and how many hours until I can go get some damn ice cream), I know there are better things I could be thinking about. I could plan a novel or a screen play. I could lay out a schedule for cleaning, painting, and organizing my room. I could dream up my next crafty project. I could revise my 6-month plan to achieve world domination (the old one would come to fruition in February and, realistically, I'm going to need a bit more time).
This is what girls do. We think about boys. I'm sure boys think about girls too but I have never possessed the correct set of equipment to make a quantifiable comparison. But girls tear each other apart over boys. So...I'm kicking the habit, one beautifully shaped bicep at a time. Gentlemen of yesteryear, I can't be bothered to ponder your beauty, charm or stupidity any longer. And that goes for you, subconscious! How about you give me the plans for a new invention or a dream about space travel instead? On second thought....that dream featuring Ian Somerhalder wasn't that bad....
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