Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Immature Much?

My sulking inner fifteen-year-old has deigned to come out of her room in my brain a lot more lately. I am not sure if it is that she's looking for more black dye to further blackify her already all-black wardrobe or if she is looking for a raise in her allowance to offset the costs of her newfound, Morrissey-inspired smoking habit, but there she is, surveying all that she sees with a thinly veiled expression of disdain.

I am quite disappointed with my fifteen-year-old self, because her vocabulary could use some work. I really thought that with all Dostoyevsky and Maharishi Mahesh Yogi she read back in 1987 that she would have a little more to offer than: "Asshole much?" (in response to a less than kind statement made by one of my friends); "Gay much?" (in response to the Palinode's displayed knowledge of show tunes); "Jealous much?" (in response to someone's disapproval of the amount of cleavage I was sporting); and "Think much?" (in response to most statements made by most people).

I think I am going to send her back to upgrade her high school English classes. And challenge her to discontinue the use of the moon as a poetic device. And maybe suggest a regular dose of some kind of dopamine-reuptake blocking compound.

What brings this up is that one of my cats fell off a chair yesterday, and when I picked him up, I said "Loser much?" Then, while I was in mid love-snorgle with his belly fluff, I thought to myself, "Pathetic much?", which threw me into a depressive spiral that I concluded with the statement "Crazy much?"

It gets worse. I have been somewhat constipated of late - (not that you have the desire to know this, but I have to tell you in order to reach the end of this story) - and yesterday marked an extremely impressive end to that niggling issue. I was just pulling some toilet paper off the roll when I heard myself say "Fibre much?" OUT LOUD.

It strikes me as particularly unnecessary to use a mocking tone in response to my own bowel movements.

Beer And Chapstick

Waking Up In The Morning With Your Clothes On