Bambi in drag wearing pink mascara
= ♡ ?
I am back, again.
I don’t want to talk about my deficient layout. I don’t want to talk about how lousy missing another therapist appointment makes me feel. I just feel like sharing some random thoughts and information about myself. It’s probably a mistake. Like eating sloppy spaghetti, held in your lap clumsily, while wearing a new white shirt. Yeah.
I want to write more in this journal but sometimes the words don’t want me to write them. Not because I can’t find the right ones, they aren’t hiding, but they make me think too many of them at the same time. Too many ‘right’ words cancel each other out and just make me look/feel pretentious.
But, right now I feel really dumb. Dumb, scared and alone.
First, while doing my overrides for this journal the night before last I spent almost 4 hours trying to figure out why every time I got a header up all my links stopped working. I thought to myself “Am I just some kind of a moron or something?” Well, apparently, yes. For a different reason.
I figured out my header was a partially transparent gif with a resolution of 1042 X 768, so it was laying over my entire page. Score ONE idiotme! I still can’t remember why I originally made it that resolution. I guess I assumed that it had to be a second background. I don’t know. The curiosity of idiotme-ness.
If that wasn’t enough, yesterday morning I went to heat something up in the oven and after 20 minutes I went to check on it and I forgot to turn the oven on! Yea idiotme! You go girl! Rule the masses!
I wish I could say these examples are unusual for me. Nuh uh. I seem to have a constant, agelong absentmindedness. I lose my ink pens (when Blaze doesn’t steal them.) I have around 25 mismatched socks (their mates perished in the inferno of my imbecility.) I put up important things and forget where I put them. I slip on wet floors after I mop them, I run into things after I rearranged them. And don’t ever let me borrow anything you value, I’ll probably lose it.
So I began thinking today about why I am this way. That led onto depressive thoughts about what I have to offer any kind of relationship (be it friendship or whatever.) I just over flowth with the flaws, you know? I mean I know everyone has flaws, but mine seem so much more pronounced. In bold and flashy with glitter and stuff. I do like glitter, but nevermind that part. The point is that I’ve come to the conclusion that I am just manufactured to drive people away.
If I was a knick knack, no one would buy me. Or maybe I’d be a garage sale knick knack marked at $0.25 and sold for $0.10 and if they did decide to splurge on a cracked 14" statue of Bambi in drag wearing pink mascara I would only sit on the back shelf all dustily like and never touched. You might ask well don’t they appreciate fine art? No, of course they don’t.
Lets look at a handful of these defects and you decide why anyone would want to be around me; I’m afraid of people, I hardly leave home, my personality is not fun, cheery or enlightening. I’m not very good looking so people can’t even like to be around me for that reason. (Not that I would want to base my life as an object to look at anyway, how trifle.) To add grease to the flame, I am moody, very opinionated, shy, overly sensitive, dramatic, easily distracted, moderately misandrous (thanks dad!), paranoid, nervous, impatient, neurotic, self deprecating (no, really.) and I regret everything I do, even things I like or feel I need to do. Which is why Spaghetti!
I use to want aliens to take me up to space with them. But, then I got to thinking , if most of my own human race doesn’t like me, then why the hell would I think aliens would want anything to do with me?
Okay, so, I do have good things about me. Unfortunately these are all things that people claim to care about and really don’t. First there is the whole kind hearted, honest, polite, giving, sweet, thoughtful thing. That’s just A SHAM no one really seems to care about that unless you’re already attractive and/or appealing in other ways. Oh, sure I am also reasonably intelligent, but not in anyway useful. On a good day I have a witty retort for most anything, but those usually just result in dirty looks, anyway. I can create things too, like a pretty collage of cartoon frogs and sugar packets, faces on cupcakes and a nonsense poem here and there. Sounds enticing, right?
And, I know I am a good person. At least, I sure try hard enough. And not for a religious reason either (Christians shield your eyes now) I don’t think I am or do I need to be rewarded for kindness with eternal bliss or some such bullshit. I believe that no matter what I say/do/think/feel I’ll end up worm food in the end. But I am still a quote, unquote a good person because it’s the way I feel is right. I had this discussion with a rabid, foaming at the mouth, church goer in highschool (the few days I made it through lunch.) On why people consider ‘good god-fearing citizens’ to be more morally excellent and why they are surmounted. I mean they are being bribed to not be assholes.
So those are the thoughts I wanted to post, and I am done now.
Bye.