The countdown is on. Age 27 is already here and is no longer a number, but a state of mind; a culturally perceived last frontier of bachelorhood and more importantly, the first steps into old spinsterhood. Yes, yes....27 is too low a number to be saying these things, I know the North American cultural perception of this age. However, I am not North American (although have absorbed some its qualities) but a confused, deeply convoluted Albanian with a mix of values that seem to not know where they belong or where they would like to belong. At this current state, I am more of an amalgamation of compromised morals, muddled ideals, rejected and recycled superstitions and a new full set of decadent habits that I find incredibly essential to increasing my huma
nity and interestingness in life.
I am an odd one, inside of me. Outside, I seem a cheery, loving, party-animal babe that loves to flirt and make friends. I am the tactless jokes girl, full of life and energy. I am the speak-your-mind-first-think-later girl, the one with too many she's-ugly comments, the one with too much love for humans, too much tolerance, too much judgements, too much of everything. I am a mess of everything. And I am NOT the only one!
You are too, inexistent reader! We are all messes of everything, tangled balls of emotions, regrets, etc, etc, etc. Life is a string of etceteras.
Now go drink a delicious cold beer and don't pay any attention to my string of cliches.