Friday, April 28, 2006

Je m'appelle Minge

Je m'appelle Minge. J'ai 33 ans. J'ai les yeux brun, les cheveaux brun. J'habite a Edinburgh en Ecosse.

Une verre de limonade, s'il vous plaît.

Merde.

Bon après-midi. Est-ce qu'il y a un homme près d'ici?

Shit, see what happens when you don't use a language for almost twenty years? You end up reciting stuff from your first ever French lesson.

And I expect the spelling is totally fucked.

Oops, I just swore. I'm such a rebel.

To cut to the chase. I am not Spock. I am Minge. I am not Roy. I am not Roysie. I am not Bender. I am not Royston. I am not Taps. I am Minge.

However, I don't want to be Minge.

I want to be something else.

I'd like to be a chrysalis, but I'm not even that. I don't know if I even feel like a caterpillar. I think I'm still an egg. But a thirty three year old egg.

Shit.

Time's marching on. It looks like it's not only Phyllis who's having a mid-life crisis.

When do I get to be a butterfly?

3 comments:

Voix said...

Not bad for someone who's out of practice.

We're always in the middle of reinventing ourselves, you know. There isn't anything wrong with acknowledging that.

It's only a crisis if you let it slow you down.

Who do you want to be? Now change one thing. Then wait a little bit and change another.

This public service announcement has been brought to you by your friendly, neighborhood American French teacher.

*mwah*

Minge said...

*mwah*

I've slowed down to such an extent, that I've stopped!

Change, my dear.

Minge said...

I love to leave something behind!

;)

I bet you can't wait for it to start!