5:20 p.m. x 2008-03-25
every day i get a little less skaggly. every morning i wake up a tiny bit more okay about my appearance. today i was even excited to get up and get dressed. i'm wearing the dress i bought with lexi and jimmy over the weekend. i finally did my nails. i may go on a walk and flaunt my high spirits before i commit to my mountain of homework. but first i have to complain about something:
i love to listen to people. love to help them out. i've also got that deranged hatred happening of people who can't follow my expert advice. i am not an advice giver. or i AM, by nature, i am always right and i think highly of my own opinion but i don't...i make the effort to keep my opinions to myself unless that's what needs to happen. otherwise i just listen. sometimes it really bothers people. it's particularly bothersome, i gather, on AIM, where one misses out on shoulder-rubs and eye-contact and empathetic-head-nods. it's all "aaawe" and "mmm" from me, which makes me look like an asshole. or emoticons. still. ugh. i'm there for ya, though, you know? and when i feel like i can legitimately launch a statement i will.
however, my first words are always going to be (so don't be shocked or act all fucking hostile): "do you want to talk about it?" if you're upset and you're talking to me, and you want to talk, things are going to go a lot smoother. if you simply inform me that you're pissed off, fume about how pissed off you are, muse over the stupid stunts you may committ while flailing in your raging river of pissed off, then you don't even deserve my emoticons. you deserve the UNIMPRESSED EXPRESSION i am making at you on this side of the computer screen.
my favorite example of this behavior was the time duff txt'd me with the news of how he'd been dumped at prom. despite still having some risidual fondness for him, and thus felt bad for him, and despite the fact that i'd been glad that he was with my friend amanda, i had been miserable liking/being with him, and it was definitely his turn. i had a blackout-headache and it was my birthday - one of the bleaker ones - and when i recieved the txt i begrudgingly txt'd back "do you want to talk about it?" he responded with an all-caps "NO" and i told him to go die, then tossed my phone across the room and passed out.
i never tire of telling that story, not because it's one of the better ones, but because it's - for someone like me - a personal statement. i love to help people, but i hate to take shit. taking shit helps no one, but it isn't inborne knowledge. i am making large strides in reducing my shit-taking tendencies to zero, and it's feeling good.
ahhh...i'd better take that walk...
if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start