I find myself liking things I previously gave scant notice to. Take for example the song currently playing on Launch radio - Watching Cars Go By by Felix da Housecat. I have no idea who Felix da Housecat is. I do know he (or she, or it) falls under the very vague category of dance. Sure, I did click on dance as one of my preferred musical genres, but only for the admittedly generic ones like Fatboy Slim, Chemical Brothers and Daft Punk. But with the way Launch works, I'd get the occasional 'recommendations' from fans of the aforementioned artists. Such as this that I'm listening to. Usually, I'd skip to the next song.

But I haven't.

Maybe it's a mixture of my present already escalating hunger and maybe it's on account of general lethargy. But oddly enough, this does not only apply to musical tastes.

I am obviously going through a shift of some sort. Don't want to give it labels. THERE. That's one glaring example of my whatever-this-is. I am terribly allergic to labels (and this is a particularly foreign concept for me, one who quickly scrounges around for a convenient adjective or noun for something agreeable - and disagreeable).

For the past few weeks, I've been inundated with relationship stories of all kinds. Thankfully, I've not yet puked over them. In fact, I find myself comparing my present knee-jerk reactions to these stories to reactions I would have had, say, five years ago. For the most part, I've patiently listened to most of them and have not rendered sweeping judgments. I think it helps that I'm happy with my relationship with a particular boy.

I type the word 'relationship' with trepidation because that only glosses over the things that we are not.

The happiness rests largely on the knowledge that, jesus, someone loves me. And, in a departure from myself, I actually love someone I never saw myself with.

Dammit, I've grown up.