Why? Why? Why?

“Why?” is a complete sentence in itself. I know this because spell check told me. And as highly amusing a topic as this is, I cannot proceed. I can’t because I am wondering about a few things.
Am I making the right decisions? Are there wrong decisions? I don’t want to start waxing philosophical because I have real concerns that can’t likely be helped by mental masturbation (but it feels oh so good!). I worry that I am sacrificing myself, and that I am not strong enough not to lose me, not to forget me. I worry that I can’t accept people that I love, and that I’ll never really love anyone because I can’t accept them. How many things do you really have to have in common? How much compromise (or sacrifice on a bad day) is acceptable? Do I really want to be around someone like me? Do I always have to be right? Can’t any body take a fucking joke? Should I censor myself because no one can take a fucking joke? Was it really a fucking joke? Am I allowed to think he’s wrong? That just takes me right back to: Do I always have to be right? Are relationships really just two people trying to change each other?
I got an email from a friend today. All it said was, “write something today.” That person cares about me. And although this isn’t likely what my friend had in mind, I did write, this, and I only actually coerced myself to do it because those three words kept popping into my head. Write something today. Apparently I’m not the only one who gives a frick about my writing, which is good because I obviously don’t give enough of a frick.
Tonight Cris and I made some sesame chicken and broccoli with rice. It was yummy. The chicken was moist and tender, much like a recently used vagina. The sauce had all the important Asian flavor components, which are: sweet, salty, spicy, bitter, and MSG. Necessarily, I didn’t wind up going to work. I was easily dissuaded.
I only mention our succulent feast because it was assigned to me to write about something (presumably other than poop and my perpetual problems) for at least five minutes every day. A few options on the menu du jour are bands I saw, restaurants I ate at, streets I walked down, public toilets I employed, or even just meals I prepared at home. Since I did nothing of consequence today, you get home made sesame chicken, and very little of it for that matter. We ate it all.
Though I suppose it would be mildly amusing to dissertate on the TABC certification course I spent four and a half irretrievable hours of my life completing today. It was super. More on that later. It is 1:39 a.m. what do you think I am some sort of heathen? Frick!