I realized today that women work apologies into their language way more than men do. A woman accidentally walks in on me in the public bathroom at the movie theater, and I can’t help it; the first words out of my mouth are not, "Jesus, get your own." Instead I say, "I’m sorry." Makes absolutely no sense, but I apologize when someone else bumps into me. I apologize way too easily, and it pisses me off, especially knowing that men… men don’t.

And yet.

I find myself wanting to apologize, wanting to explain what I’m working on now, wanting people to understand that I’m torn, that I’m working on a lot of things at once, and I want them to understand, to excuse mediocre, to understand that I can only give so much. I want to make excuses, and I don’t want them to be called excuses.

I nearly apologized for not posting yet about LOST. For not writing about it last week because my life got in the way. Tonight, even, I was out at a birthday dinner with Phil, and I still felt emotionally in debt, as if I owed, as if I had people waiting and I needed to explain. It’s absurd!

That said, as soon as Phil and I strolled in, we both wanted to flick on LOST, a few hours after it aired. And I wanted to get down my initial thoughts, so I always had them, so it would be that much easier to understand the second time through. But what’s the point? The point is that it makes me happy. So I’m doing shit my way, even if it makes shitty sense.