Random Sh--Sorry

Confidential. Open at your own risk.

Today is April 11th, the day before I turn a year older. Woopee. That makes this bitch twenty two freakin' years old. I have been torturing the world for that long and I still cant believe that the ground hasn't opened up and devoured me to free itself with my existence. Maybe I don't taste that good. Yet.


Thank you ground for being patient with me.


For all the advances in medicine, there is still no cure for the common birthday. That is why I still count how many birthdays I had unlike a few of us who stop counting theirs from-when-I-really-don't-know. I'M FREAKIN' TWENTY TWO AND I'M LOVING EVERY YEAR OF IT! Excuse the caps. I just want to emphasize my point. For me, age is something that doesn't matter, unless you are cheese. You aren't, are you not? Go figure.

Thank you father and mother for not being goat... cheeses.

So far, life has been good to me. Though I have had my own down times, I had gained new friends, reconnected with old ones, got some of the things I really wanted and a million other little things that just make you smile and thank the sky for not striking you with lightning, yet. Or the ground for not swallowing you whole. I hope tomorrow starts a new journey of the same sort. Or awesome-er. That'd be cool.

Thank you life for being oh-so goooood.

I am thinking of things that I might do on my last day being twenty one, but I can't really figure out anything yet. My Facebook friends suggested activities from as boring as reading a book (Okay, I just find this boring right now considering I haven't had any sleep yet from work. Sorry my books, I love you.) to something as sickly-insane-why-of-all-the-fcuking-things as an orgy. Maybe I didn't clear out the limits. Or maybe, I might just do it... NOT!

Thank you Sanity, you're always present. Even how dismal at times.

This is a random blog. If you're reading this, I apologize for any typos, missed s-v agreements, incoherent sentences and cussing. Especially cussing. Thank you for sparing five of your precious minutes reading this. Now you can pluck your eyebrows. 

Or mow your lawn. 

Thank you, though. *grins*

Peace out. 

The Comeblog

I love them. ☺

Acceptance. I firmly believe that in order to love the person truly, you should learn how to accept, respect and love the person for what he or she truly is. Even how fucked up the life lived. Like mine. Or yours. 

I admit that I am not close to being perfect. Not a teeny tiny bit. I have my own shit stored in my closet. My own cobwebs that I just leave at the corner of the room, too lazy to clean up. My trash can overflowing of crumpled papers, tears and used condoms. But I know that every single one of those shortcomings are factors why I'm the AWESOME Robin and not like some pretentious (insert singular cuss word) I know. I have my friends to stand up for that.

And yeah, I can say that my life is NOT a bit boring. We make mistakes, and its ok to make them as long as you learn something after. Even how minimal. At least it made you... minimally better than before. They make our life more realistic. More grounded; it's not every time a fairy tale, babe. There is always that mad-hag-bitchy witch that would spoil your matte finish real bad. 

I dont know about you but I am still young. For me, the world is like a really big, naked torso that I just can't get my hands off. Or lips. Tongue. I still want to explore my self. I may leave skid marks on the pavement but I'll just continue that long, laborous but FREAKINLY fun journey to Nirvana. Self actualization shit. 

Where were you while we were getting high? 

PS. If you still don't get the title, it's comeback btich. You know, blogging again. Peace out.