Some women get emotional around their, as they say, "time of the month."
I get emotional around my time of the year.
Early December, late November. Every year. It's just too much sometimes.
And this year is extra-super-special, because it seems like I've been doing cartwheels for everyone else...
And to no avail. I'm not the sort who needs a lot of attention. I'm not needy. I'm not clingy. I'm just about as far from a normal girl as you can get.
So why is it so much to ask for just a little attention? You know-- when I go above and beyond to come up with a fantastic idea for a present that I can barely afford and even forego the surprise element to it, which I love and half of my gift recipients seem to loathe, and then I get, "All right. I'll go." What the hell is that?
It's not a favor to me when people accept my present. And yet--- I don't know. It's so overwhelmingly frustrating.
And underwhelmingly exciting.
And never mind "thank you." I don't even expect it anymore.
I've dropped my expectations. Again. Why bother.....?
It just seems like I'm switching off between unbearable electric frustration and a crushing sense of defeat. This isn't life. And I know it's not. And I don't know how to change it.I can't change much more. And I don't want to, anyways. I love myself.
Fuck. This is just fabulous.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Dream
Last night's dream was absolutely bizarre.
It started out in school. I had just come from something Harry Potter related, which had somehow caused me to believe that Voldemort might exist. He had a locker in our school, which was several down from mine (place where my 10th grade locker was). I attempted to open it several times, but finally ran off to Physics. Then it changed somewhat, and instead of going to Physics I went to a place where there were the four house tables. My friends and I were seated at Gryffindor. Nearby was the Ravenclaw table, which was sorely underpopulated due to the swine flu. I looked around my own table and saw that there might be space enough to fit the lonely Ravenclaws. I turned to ask how many people they had left, but already more people were arriving-- too many to fit at our table. However, I still felt bad for them and asked if there was anything I could do. They told me of some strange problem which I didn't fully understand, but with which I could help. It was very heavily sci-fi related. And so, when everybody left, I was on the Ravenclaw's something-- it was sort of like a space ship-- and remove things from what seemed like a giant circuit board, in order to.. I'm not sure, actually. I think to keep their ship from crashing. So then I was done. But I had to get out as quickly as possible afterward; I don't know why. I stepped out of the door, into what then was a jet plane. For awhile I was just in the plane; I didn't really know what I was doing. Then, Sam was their with me and it was descending. But i had planned all along to jump. I knew we had to. He, on the other hand, seemed surprised. Unprepared. So, as we began to get within jumping height, I shouted, "Get the parachutes!" Sam ran into something like a closet and grabbed a small box full of something more like plastic bags, which we were supposed to hold onto. I told him to go first, because I didn't want him to die and I could trust myself in an emergency. He went. I saw the- a- monorail out of the plane's window and so stuck my "parachute" out the door in an attempt to slow the plane enough to save my life. It worked, and I landed in Syracuse. I met up with Sam, and some kids that were, in the dream, our friends but whom I have never met in real life. We were walking along the edges of bridges and riding in buses and cars, giving the effect that we hung around the area quite a lot. At one point Sam and I were in a bus and his friend called down to him. I knew that Sam did not hear and yet I didn't alert him, because I didn't feel like dealing with the two of them for the rest of the day. I felt guilty about that for the rest of the dream. There was something about a sister... she had blond hair... that I don't remember clearly now. The friends must have been really well developed in the dream. And for some reason, perhaps just because he could, Sam jumped off of a bridge and into heavy traffic. He was fine, as he'd known he would be, but I was exceptionally pissed off at him for pulling such a stunt. Our friends were caught between humor at him and agreement with me. Somehow, though, that eventually faded into just us two in the city, me following him so as not to get lost. We got on a Centro bus, where people ushered us on, scanned our faces, and told us to get off. After I got off, i felt lost. I didn't know where Sam was. I thought for a moment that perhaps I'd have to go back and find his friend who had beckoned him. I thought that maybe that was the most just punishment for my ignoring him before. Then I happened to look in the front window of the bus, where I could see Sam, alone and asleep. I started shouting that he had to get off the bus.He woke up and did so, but then ended up on another bus that was in reality a car. I was livid at him for leaving me alone in a city where I couldn't navigate myself. I'm not sure why, but I became increasingly upset thinking, pull the line! Just pull the line and stop! And realized that there was no line to pull. I woke up furious and confused.
It started out in school. I had just come from something Harry Potter related, which had somehow caused me to believe that Voldemort might exist. He had a locker in our school, which was several down from mine (place where my 10th grade locker was). I attempted to open it several times, but finally ran off to Physics. Then it changed somewhat, and instead of going to Physics I went to a place where there were the four house tables. My friends and I were seated at Gryffindor. Nearby was the Ravenclaw table, which was sorely underpopulated due to the swine flu. I looked around my own table and saw that there might be space enough to fit the lonely Ravenclaws. I turned to ask how many people they had left, but already more people were arriving-- too many to fit at our table. However, I still felt bad for them and asked if there was anything I could do. They told me of some strange problem which I didn't fully understand, but with which I could help. It was very heavily sci-fi related. And so, when everybody left, I was on the Ravenclaw's something-- it was sort of like a space ship-- and remove things from what seemed like a giant circuit board, in order to.. I'm not sure, actually. I think to keep their ship from crashing. So then I was done. But I had to get out as quickly as possible afterward; I don't know why. I stepped out of the door, into what then was a jet plane. For awhile I was just in the plane; I didn't really know what I was doing. Then, Sam was their with me and it was descending. But i had planned all along to jump. I knew we had to. He, on the other hand, seemed surprised. Unprepared. So, as we began to get within jumping height, I shouted, "Get the parachutes!" Sam ran into something like a closet and grabbed a small box full of something more like plastic bags, which we were supposed to hold onto. I told him to go first, because I didn't want him to die and I could trust myself in an emergency. He went. I saw the- a- monorail out of the plane's window and so stuck my "parachute" out the door in an attempt to slow the plane enough to save my life. It worked, and I landed in Syracuse. I met up with Sam, and some kids that were, in the dream, our friends but whom I have never met in real life. We were walking along the edges of bridges and riding in buses and cars, giving the effect that we hung around the area quite a lot. At one point Sam and I were in a bus and his friend called down to him. I knew that Sam did not hear and yet I didn't alert him, because I didn't feel like dealing with the two of them for the rest of the day. I felt guilty about that for the rest of the dream. There was something about a sister... she had blond hair... that I don't remember clearly now. The friends must have been really well developed in the dream. And for some reason, perhaps just because he could, Sam jumped off of a bridge and into heavy traffic. He was fine, as he'd known he would be, but I was exceptionally pissed off at him for pulling such a stunt. Our friends were caught between humor at him and agreement with me. Somehow, though, that eventually faded into just us two in the city, me following him so as not to get lost. We got on a Centro bus, where people ushered us on, scanned our faces, and told us to get off. After I got off, i felt lost. I didn't know where Sam was. I thought for a moment that perhaps I'd have to go back and find his friend who had beckoned him. I thought that maybe that was the most just punishment for my ignoring him before. Then I happened to look in the front window of the bus, where I could see Sam, alone and asleep. I started shouting that he had to get off the bus.He woke up and did so, but then ended up on another bus that was in reality a car. I was livid at him for leaving me alone in a city where I couldn't navigate myself. I'm not sure why, but I became increasingly upset thinking, pull the line! Just pull the line and stop! And realized that there was no line to pull. I woke up furious and confused.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Just a thought for the day...
Life's greatest beauties are hidden within its intricacies. Sometimes those searching for wisdom ponder the big questions while the wise ponder the little ones.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Bitter
Disappointment. It's bitter.
Worse for me is a sort of disappointment that occurs in retrospect, with new information, when it affects someone else as well, andtthough I can't be blamed it's all my fault.
For instance-- Once when I was little, my mother picked me up from school, and on the way homeI realized I'd forgotten my Spelling workbook, which I needed that night. After turning around, getting the book, and ehading back to my mother's work as we had been before, my mother informed me that her friend had brought her toddler (I've always loved young children) whom I hadn't seen in a long time and wanted dearly to see.She told me that her friend had brought her child so that I could see him again, and that she would probably be gone by the time I got there-- all because I'd forgotten my book.
Now, it wasn't, strictly speaking, my fault that I'd forgotten in the first place. I could've been more conscientious in packing my bookbag, but other than that there was no real fault. I didn't know until it was too late that I had ruined the surprise for both myself and my mother's friend. I could do nothing to fix it.
There are other, more recent examples I could cite, but in all truth I don't feel like it. It's just that crushing sense of disappointment that comes not from losing or not getting something you were looking forward to, but realizing that your actions caused you not to get something that you would have loved and, further still, that you disappointed the person who was trying to facilitate you getting whatever it was. And you didn't even know you were ruining something. You had no way of knowing.
I drive myself a little closer to the edge each day, I suppose. Insanity is a staple item in my mental pantry. As basic as flour in a baker's cupboard. Now, I'm not quite sure what's going on with me. I don't know if I like it. I know I'm tired of changing, and I'm ready to be happy.
Worse for me is a sort of disappointment that occurs in retrospect, with new information, when it affects someone else as well, andtthough I can't be blamed it's all my fault.
For instance-- Once when I was little, my mother picked me up from school, and on the way homeI realized I'd forgotten my Spelling workbook, which I needed that night. After turning around, getting the book, and ehading back to my mother's work as we had been before, my mother informed me that her friend had brought her toddler (I've always loved young children) whom I hadn't seen in a long time and wanted dearly to see.She told me that her friend had brought her child so that I could see him again, and that she would probably be gone by the time I got there-- all because I'd forgotten my book.
Now, it wasn't, strictly speaking, my fault that I'd forgotten in the first place. I could've been more conscientious in packing my bookbag, but other than that there was no real fault. I didn't know until it was too late that I had ruined the surprise for both myself and my mother's friend. I could do nothing to fix it.
There are other, more recent examples I could cite, but in all truth I don't feel like it. It's just that crushing sense of disappointment that comes not from losing or not getting something you were looking forward to, but realizing that your actions caused you not to get something that you would have loved and, further still, that you disappointed the person who was trying to facilitate you getting whatever it was. And you didn't even know you were ruining something. You had no way of knowing.
I drive myself a little closer to the edge each day, I suppose. Insanity is a staple item in my mental pantry. As basic as flour in a baker's cupboard. Now, I'm not quite sure what's going on with me. I don't know if I like it. I know I'm tired of changing, and I'm ready to be happy.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Personality Quizzes
Why do we so love personalty quizzes and indicators?
We know in our minds that the results could be applied in some way to almost anyone, and yet we love to take them, and then revel in how accurate they apparently are.
I think it's because they focus generally on positives. Because, let's face it: most of us aren't told often enough about just how good we are. So we take quizzes-- we figure, if we answer each question honestly, and it spits out something about our intelligence, or our kindness, or our creativity, it must be true!
I like them because they make me think. I go through my result and figure out which parts actually apply to me. Then, I think about those aspects of my personality. I'm the sort who loves thinking about people, both myself and others. I would love to study social psychology, but as a hobby. I suppose we're all a little strange.
And I'm sure there's a test to verify that.
We know in our minds that the results could be applied in some way to almost anyone, and yet we love to take them, and then revel in how accurate they apparently are.
I think it's because they focus generally on positives. Because, let's face it: most of us aren't told often enough about just how good we are. So we take quizzes-- we figure, if we answer each question honestly, and it spits out something about our intelligence, or our kindness, or our creativity, it must be true!
I like them because they make me think. I go through my result and figure out which parts actually apply to me. Then, I think about those aspects of my personality. I'm the sort who loves thinking about people, both myself and others. I would love to study social psychology, but as a hobby. I suppose we're all a little strange.
And I'm sure there's a test to verify that.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Hope
So much has happened this week. I'm glad it's over.
Sure, there's plenty to do, plenty more stressors to come. But here I breathe a mighty sigh of relief as I think, Well, I got through that.
It's strange how all at once everything can change.
One good conversation, one good fight, one good cry in combination can make you feel reborn.
Sometimes, it seems as if every time I think, things are going to get better now, it turns out that the "getting better" part was only a phase, with the path of life lapsing exhaustedly back into its same depressed routine.
Two days in a row I've awoken feeling new. It seems almost ridiculous. Yet, who am I to push the feeling away? I know that if My life, my mind, my flying lark falls again to the ground, I will feel as if naivety gave birth to my hope before. Yet now it remains suspended in grateful relief, and I have no right to deny myself a taste of happiness.
I feel that perhaps all is distorted... but for now I am happy. So long as I am happy at once with being clear-minded, it may indeed last.
One can hope.
Sure, there's plenty to do, plenty more stressors to come. But here I breathe a mighty sigh of relief as I think, Well, I got through that.
It's strange how all at once everything can change.
One good conversation, one good fight, one good cry in combination can make you feel reborn.
Sometimes, it seems as if every time I think, things are going to get better now, it turns out that the "getting better" part was only a phase, with the path of life lapsing exhaustedly back into its same depressed routine.
Two days in a row I've awoken feeling new. It seems almost ridiculous. Yet, who am I to push the feeling away? I know that if My life, my mind, my flying lark falls again to the ground, I will feel as if naivety gave birth to my hope before. Yet now it remains suspended in grateful relief, and I have no right to deny myself a taste of happiness.
I feel that perhaps all is distorted... but for now I am happy. So long as I am happy at once with being clear-minded, it may indeed last.
One can hope.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Triumph
What is does it mean to succeed, truly?
Is success the reaching of one's goals, or perhaps the exceeding of them? Is success accomplishing- or surpassing- other peoples' expectations for you? Or are others even relevant?
Maybe... maybe success is actually happiness. In such an event, one cannot chase one in lieu of the other.
Maybe it's all a waste of time.
Is success the reaching of one's goals, or perhaps the exceeding of them? Is success accomplishing- or surpassing- other peoples' expectations for you? Or are others even relevant?
Maybe... maybe success is actually happiness. In such an event, one cannot chase one in lieu of the other.
Maybe it's all a waste of time.
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