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Still furry identity crisising

Meh. Long convo with Whines and Quinn left me with the nagging sensation that I'm not who I want to be right now. I'm sharp and brittle, generally unable to handle kids being kids. Of course, I'm *not* a kid, I'm classified, but I'd like to be a friendly person, and certainly wouldn't want to be seen as Whines's unfriendly mate who just comes out to tell people to keep the noise down. (Get off my lawn, you foxes!)

Not sure how to arrest this particular downward trend. Unfortunately, once you've heard one 20-year-old prattling male, you've heard ALL 20-year-old prattling males (this does not apply to males who don't prattle, which we're blessed with several of). Honestly, the sound of one red-breasted titmouse is not singificantly different from the sound of another red-breasted titmouse.

There are good reasons to grow up--and to have a group of your peers to hang out with.

That being said, there are good reasons to foster the next generation of crazy weirdos. I remember in the Camarilla there were adults who fostered fledgeling weirdos. Bless you, them. Blem. Not, it should be said, many of them, but there were a few.

Rf. This is feeling a bit like a midlife identity crisis, and it's been ongoing for like a year now.

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