I already have something else I want to write about...
Still haven’t started working on those two papers I have due at the end of break. Stupid unstructured time. Anyway, tomorrow I get a haircut. I didn’t schedule it. I almost like my hair shaggy; it’s low maintenance and looks it. But we’ll see what they’ll do, I suppose. They can’t make it much shorter, and they won’t, because the poor hair stylists there are always terrified about making me look masculine or doing something I won’t like. I don’t bother to tell them how little I’d care about the former, but I’ve told them before that they’d have to shave me bald before I’d seriously object to my hairstyle. Ah well. No matter what they do, it will be dark purple before I get back to school, so that should be fun.
On a less tedious note…. No, I lie. Nothing particularly interesting has happened today. I had fun taking my grandmother to the grocery, I spent far too much time philosophizing and attempting to psychoanalyze myself (a slow and steady, but probably futile process), I watched tons of television, I ate an incredible number of preservative-packed cookies, I did my laundry, and above all I failed to work. Oh, and Bjorn, to my utter depression, was mistaken for a chew toy by my Dusty puppy. I’m going to try to re-stain him, so the damage isn’t quite so obvious, but nearly half his jaw is missing.
Also, interesting observation. My sister and I noticed years ago that our parents are far from the touchy-feely type. They raised me, after all. We hug at arrivals and departures, and occasionally there is a cheek-kiss, but that’s about it, and even that feels a bit awkward. This isn’t a new development, either. Things were the same when we were tiny. This bothered my emotional and outgoing sister more than me, I think, though I remember rarely being distressed by it when I was younger, and it’s useful for my continued probing of my psyche. In any case, that’s an old observation.
The new one began today when I was playing with my puppies. None of you have probably ever seen me with an animal, but I’ve apparently scared people by gushing over them. With Dusty, in particular, we play, we wrestle, I baby talk her, we run around the house, I scratch her ears, nuzzle her nose, kiss her forehead, etc. (More with her than the others because Jasper is whiny and skittish, so doesn’t wrestle, and Daniel and Patrick are usually dirty.) I realized at some point today that I’m more physically affectionate with animals than with people, despite the fact that I’m not quite as physically affectionate with people as I would like to be. (Yes, I like hugging people and petting their hair and cuddling. I do not, however, often feel comfortable doing so. Also, anyone who ever attempts to hold my hand again gets kicked in the shin. I hate that.) This wasn’t a particularly interesting observation, though, because petting and wrestling are what you do with big dogs. Later on, however, my dad started doing the exact same thing, including the “having so much fun and Dusty is so adorable that you just have to laugh, tug her ears and kiss her nose” thing I’d done earlier that day. Now I know where I got it. I wonder if it’s odd that my family, as a whole, is more affectionate with animals than with people. Ah well.
One of these days, I need to work through my natural revulsion for the idea and speak to a psychologist. I make fun of Freud for attempting to psychoanalyze himself, but I do it all the time. Meh… Such an annoying thought, though. Not only would it require speaking to a stranger, which is already a hateful task, it would require an unedited recounting of myself. I always edit. I’m an English major. I’ve even edited the four or five diary-type entries I’ve ever written, and those were purely for myself. Besides, if you edit, you never have to do anything as inelegant as lying.
Also, just because I was forced to listen to the radio as I drove and one of their songs got stuck in my head and needed to be purged does not mean that I have forgiven Green Day for that awful song.
On a less tedious note…. No, I lie. Nothing particularly interesting has happened today. I had fun taking my grandmother to the grocery, I spent far too much time philosophizing and attempting to psychoanalyze myself (a slow and steady, but probably futile process), I watched tons of television, I ate an incredible number of preservative-packed cookies, I did my laundry, and above all I failed to work. Oh, and Bjorn, to my utter depression, was mistaken for a chew toy by my Dusty puppy. I’m going to try to re-stain him, so the damage isn’t quite so obvious, but nearly half his jaw is missing.
Also, interesting observation. My sister and I noticed years ago that our parents are far from the touchy-feely type. They raised me, after all. We hug at arrivals and departures, and occasionally there is a cheek-kiss, but that’s about it, and even that feels a bit awkward. This isn’t a new development, either. Things were the same when we were tiny. This bothered my emotional and outgoing sister more than me, I think, though I remember rarely being distressed by it when I was younger, and it’s useful for my continued probing of my psyche. In any case, that’s an old observation.
The new one began today when I was playing with my puppies. None of you have probably ever seen me with an animal, but I’ve apparently scared people by gushing over them. With Dusty, in particular, we play, we wrestle, I baby talk her, we run around the house, I scratch her ears, nuzzle her nose, kiss her forehead, etc. (More with her than the others because Jasper is whiny and skittish, so doesn’t wrestle, and Daniel and Patrick are usually dirty.) I realized at some point today that I’m more physically affectionate with animals than with people, despite the fact that I’m not quite as physically affectionate with people as I would like to be. (Yes, I like hugging people and petting their hair and cuddling. I do not, however, often feel comfortable doing so. Also, anyone who ever attempts to hold my hand again gets kicked in the shin. I hate that.) This wasn’t a particularly interesting observation, though, because petting and wrestling are what you do with big dogs. Later on, however, my dad started doing the exact same thing, including the “having so much fun and Dusty is so adorable that you just have to laugh, tug her ears and kiss her nose” thing I’d done earlier that day. Now I know where I got it. I wonder if it’s odd that my family, as a whole, is more affectionate with animals than with people. Ah well.
One of these days, I need to work through my natural revulsion for the idea and speak to a psychologist. I make fun of Freud for attempting to psychoanalyze himself, but I do it all the time. Meh… Such an annoying thought, though. Not only would it require speaking to a stranger, which is already a hateful task, it would require an unedited recounting of myself. I always edit. I’m an English major. I’ve even edited the four or five diary-type entries I’ve ever written, and those were purely for myself. Besides, if you edit, you never have to do anything as inelegant as lying.
Also, just because I was forced to listen to the radio as I drove and one of their songs got stuck in my head and needed to be purged does not mean that I have forgiven Green Day for that awful song.