It would be fair to say that I’ve been quite unfair lately. It’s not that I don’t feel entirely entitled to be utterly irrational and share my disordered thinking and over-thought unrealised ideas with the world - such are others, so am I - but, yes, I’ve been unfair.
I’ve been past focused and fevered imagination focused and not at all here and now focused. I’ve been looking in other people’s windows, making stories for them, and imagining they’re real. Maybe they are real. They’re not my real though.
The here and now is balancing being liked for myself – which is, apparently, possible – and being the annoying fat girl who gets in the way when you’re trying to talk to the pretty girl. Sure, she was pretty but you didn’t need to score points off me.
This would go on but apologies are not my thing and, besides, I’ve run out of things to say. I think I might sit around and drink hot chocolate and remember that even the crazy can be adorable if you’re disposed to like. Be disposed. It’s an order.
7 comments:
The crazy calls bullshit on the boring, but seriously. I tear myself apart, too. I'd like to think it's cathartic... at the very least, reality is usually far less disappointing than what I've set up in my head. Win for all!
Disposed!
I also like to think it cathartic. It's like screwing things up and throwing them at the wall or the satisfaction of tearing old bills.
I sometimes wish I imagination was a little less good though. I make up some awesome stuff - such a pity it isn't real.
The balance is difficult. Just when you feel comfortable some sod has to destabilize things. As happened today when I was introduced to someone who made the error of shaking my hand while not looking at me and speaking to someone else at the same time. Oh yes, it seems small potatoes, but they're my small potatoes.
Perhaps blogging irrationally is healthy. I hope so.
Little rudenesses are very annoying, Dan,. Nothing worse than having it made clear that you're not important. I don't think they're small potatoes at all.
On the subject of potatoes, my students will fondly tease each other and say, here - take this potato and run into a burning house that you can choke and die and I can eat a roast potato...meanwhile, back to catharsis!
Has neurosis really given ways to psychosis? I really loved the sound of the alliteration in nails and neurosis! Still, it's your blog and you gotta go with your heart. Polishedly, M
Mitzi, it started off with a case of the blues and spread. I have been a little more psychotic than neurotic lately so I thought I'd update.
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