Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Real horrorshow (Day 104)

Well, not horrorshow that it's day 104; the countdown is just there to orient myself, the descriptor.... Well.

I've come to realize, after my post about the burgeoning power of the Pallid Bosom that there is a certain...lack of perspective in my mind. See, I never really thought the Pallid Bosom was particularly of note (in fact, it doesn't even rate in the Top 10 of my personal favorite body parts, getting edged out by my feet, and I'm one of those people who thinks feet are pretty ugly as a rule), so I assumed that no one else would find PB to be of any note, either. Apparently, this particular blind arrogance and assumption of what others would think has led to my inadvertently, uh, flashing (for lack of a better term) several people. Apparently, my friends have always found this behavior amusing--perhaps in a 'she's so naive and isn't it cute!' sort of way--and seem to think I might have been doing it on purpose. Mmmm, no. I just think very little of my bosom, therefore I assume no one else thinks much of it, either. It's not like I go out of my way to point it out, and I do rather take it for granted, so it's like...my nose. I don't assume people are going to be vaguely transfixed by my nose, so I don't go out of my way to either enhance or detract from it. The Bosom, like my nose, is just there. I really pay it very little attention. Actually, since I sort of go along assuming people are going to be repelled by me anyway, I try not to think too hard about myself and the impression I'm making on others. Being low on the self-esteem has an unintended side effect: I'm not as invisible as I'd assumed. I'm going to have to work on that, and hope it doesn't make me painfully self-conscious.

In other news, I've not gone hysterical three days into what has already been referred to as my Debtor's Prison Period, although I'm having a time trying to find patience. I'm historically very short on patience. Too much of a perfectionist, too hard on myself. Well, I've got four months (almost) of nothing but time to learn patience and a bunch of other crap that, I'm sure, will be spiritually edifying. I'm really not going to like it, am I. Oh, well. What's done is done and I have no choice but to let my Wyrd unfold as it may. Let's just hope I made the right choice!

I'm sure I'll be able to keep myself occupied with my stash, planning what to do with my stash, looking at my stash, taking yarn out, fondling it and putting it back in the stash, and (if the mood strikes) knitting stuff with my stash. I think I'm more a pervy yarn fancier than knitter, actually, since I could take skeins and balls and hanks and just...keep them as they are, and be perfectly happy and feel the money well spent. It might be part of why my stash has grown to such epic proportions; I don't want to be stash-less. I would be metaphorically naked without my stash. I feel vulnerable when my stash drops. Yet, oddly enough, I'm not a hysterically fast knitter, and I read more evenings than I knit, so it's not like I could actually work through my entire stash in four months (104 days--well, practically 103, since I've already done my knitting for the night and am ready to turn in.) I'll be lucky to even finish up two of the four projects I've got on needles at moment, not counting the two or three in the stashbin that I've had needles in forever. I'm getting weirder by the day! Or not; it's entirely possible that this is perfectly normal behavior, and I just don't realize it because I don't know anyone else who possesses a stash that they are reluctant to use. I may be a member of the silent majority--who knows who else carries the shame of stash love!

We have storms at the moment, and are getting more later tonight. I really should get off this computer, unplug it and go to bed. I'm not keen on this thought, as the sooner I go to bed, the sooner it is tomorrow, since tomorrow is really just more of what I had today (except with the addition of Ghost Hunters on Sci-Fi Channel, which does make Hump Day a little more pleasurable in the long run), and I'm in no great hurry to repeat today. I really need to figure out what the hell I could possibly be suited for--although I begin to suspect it's nothing--so I can get my career sorted for a while. Or at least figure out what I can do for a living that I might suceed at, since I truly suck at what I do at present. And I'm not saying that because today was our main Monthly Spanking at work (I actually have improved my performance in the past month; I'm still clocking a negative balance in the overall, but I'm clocking smaller and smaller deficits by the month. At this rate, I should be back in the positive by next month, and that's all to the good.) I'm saying that because I'm tired of feeling...ungrounded. I would desperately like to know that I'm of use to someone, somewhere, if only myself, in some fashion, and maybe feel like I know vaguely what I'm doing, instead of just flapping around, all at sixes and sevens.

And why sixes and sevens? Why not eights and nines? Why do I get distracted by things like that, instead of finding joy in something sensible?*

Oy. I need an aspirin and a shower. And then bed.

*And, just because I'm a nerd: There's an actual reason why it's at sixes and sevens. Now I can sleep easy!

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