And I'm not afraid to let it out in the form of a rant. A overly personal, probably awkward, rant. Ahem.
Why do people refuse to hold hands during the "Our Father" during church? Nothing makes me quite as sad. Furthermore, nothing is quite as awful as me fishing for your outstretched hand in the middle of a prayer. But perhaps the worst of all is when you open your eyes to glare at me and clench your palm into a fist. Later, when you smile widely and extend your hand in peace, I get scared you are going to rip off my arm. This is one of those things that makes me question all of Northeastern America.
Why aren't leggings considered 'Holy Attire'? I resent being told how to dress. I have resented it since I first acquired the ability to put on clothes. Sometime I wear heels in the rain, just to be contrary. But I always use my best judgment for a situation. Telling me what to do only challenges me to do the opposite lately.
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| (That sideways L apparently means not) |
... Actually, that's about all the ranting. Loyal Jen and Nicole readers should know that I intend to hijack this blog in an effort to practice my writing. Since I've hit an imaginary wall in my internship, I have renewed vigor to practice and more angst than a Fall Out Boy concert.
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