I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am a soul that lives within
(India.Arie)
***
Bad day yesterday. I accomplished virtually nothing. I'm fighting with my computer (it just returned with its third replacement hard drive in 6 months), I'm going crazy over my dumb dsl modem randomly and frequently shutting down, and I can't quite decide what woman musician to do my dumb powerpoint final project on.
It's driving me insane. I started one on P!nk, I started one on Billie Holiday, I started one on India.Arie, and nothing is working out. Nothing feels right. Maybe I should do the Indigo Girls (and by "do" I mean of course "do a powerpoint project on them").
I don't know. I'm all frazzled. Everything's making me crazy. I finally self-medicated from the hideously cheap box of wine that's been languishing on the counter for four or five weeks, isolated myself (and by that I mean, "continued to isolate myself"), in my room and watched the netflix Hannibal Rising.
In retrospect, perhaps not the best idea.
What a flipping SAD movie! They ate his sister! I mean, I read the book, so I knew it, but geez, I probably didn't need to be REMINDED of it last night.
Though I'm thinking about becoming a serial killer.
You know, a totally sociopathic prolific killer.
Don't laugh. If I didn't have this pesky quasi-agoraphobia and my Ew-I-can't-stand-touching-people issue, I'm completely sure that I would become a serial killer.
It would be, like, putting my Soc major to good use, right? And I would only kill the people who get on my nerves. (Hence, the "prolific" part of "totally sociopathic prolific killer.")
Actually... it's starting to sound like a lot of work.
***
So I'm mad at myself for drinking a wine cooler last night because I had vowed to not drink until after August 7. Until after my classes are done. Because I feel like I'm in some kind of training, like for the Olympics, heh, or something. And all I do is work-work-work-work and wine has no place in the equation.
Eh.
I don't suppose a wine cooler will kill me. Especially as I had no Diet Twist-Up to use as cooler and had to use, ugh, Diet V8 Berry Splash. (Oh yuck. It sounds worse in writing.) (Much worse.) (Maybe it WILL kill me.)
***
See the thing is, I certainly understand and appreciate what you're saying via email, but it's like, I don't care if my mind is ready to process or deal with stuff. It's gotta do it. I don't want to shirk, I don't want to be weak, I don't want to be a coward.
It's like, I probably wasn't ready to take three difficult classes in eight weeks (yes I was), but it had to be done, it had to be done now, and so I'm doing it.
If something is bugging me so much that I'm going from diurnal to nocturnal, that I'm having tantrums about my freaking modem, that I'm paralyzed over a flipping powerpoint decision, that I'm drinking cheap boxed Burgundy mixed with DIET V8 BERRY SPLASH (oh gawd), and wanting to cry about Hannibal Lecter... there's an issue that I need to deal with.
***
See, I typed to AAG yesterday that I think it's my fault. That there's something wrong with me.
And I do think that. There has got to be something wrong with me that causes stuff to happen. There has got to be something about ME, something that is my fault. And even though everything I'm talking about happened in the Eighties, early Nineties, I still think I have this something-wrong-thing lurking within me. Like malaria. Never really going away.
Sometimes I think that besides celibacy, besides choosing celibacy and apparently sticking to it because of my understanding that my manifestation of sexuality weakens rather than strengthens me, I should just kind of... never speak to another human again in my whole.entire.life.
Though um... This may not be entirely practical.
But see, what happens sometimes, most of the time, most of the time but not always, is that on the phone or in person, interacting with others, I'm not the me I want to be. The me I know I am. The smart, strong, capable me.
It's like another Achilles Heel.
I'm going to be talking to Karl on the phone today, over a totally computer-related issue, and I already know what's going to happen. My voice is going to rise, I'm going to be all stammering, everything I say is going to raise in inflection at the end, like everything I say is some kind of question, and I'm going to sound dumb.
You know, if you talked to me on the phone or met me in person, you would think I'm an idiot. You would never guess I'm this smart, tough, angry, well-vocabularied woman.
It makes me mad. At myself.
***
But I gotta go. I need to hike three miles with my trusty terrier companion. I was going to post my cell number here. As a kind of "Does Circe Sound Dumb?" social experiment, but I'm thinking I may want to give it a little more thought before I do it...
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am a soul that lives within
(India.Arie)
***
Bad day yesterday. I accomplished virtually nothing. I'm fighting with my computer (it just returned with its third replacement hard drive in 6 months), I'm going crazy over my dumb dsl modem randomly and frequently shutting down, and I can't quite decide what woman musician to do my dumb powerpoint final project on.
It's driving me insane. I started one on P!nk, I started one on Billie Holiday, I started one on India.Arie, and nothing is working out. Nothing feels right. Maybe I should do the Indigo Girls (and by "do" I mean of course "do a powerpoint project on them").
I don't know. I'm all frazzled. Everything's making me crazy. I finally self-medicated from the hideously cheap box of wine that's been languishing on the counter for four or five weeks, isolated myself (and by that I mean, "continued to isolate myself"), in my room and watched the netflix Hannibal Rising.
In retrospect, perhaps not the best idea.
What a flipping SAD movie! They ate his sister! I mean, I read the book, so I knew it, but geez, I probably didn't need to be REMINDED of it last night.
Though I'm thinking about becoming a serial killer.
You know, a totally sociopathic prolific killer.
Don't laugh. If I didn't have this pesky quasi-agoraphobia and my Ew-I-can't-stand-touching-people issue, I'm completely sure that I would become a serial killer.
It would be, like, putting my Soc major to good use, right? And I would only kill the people who get on my nerves. (Hence, the "prolific" part of "totally sociopathic prolific killer.")
Actually... it's starting to sound like a lot of work.
***
So I'm mad at myself for drinking a wine cooler last night because I had vowed to not drink until after August 7. Until after my classes are done. Because I feel like I'm in some kind of training, like for the Olympics, heh, or something. And all I do is work-work-work-work and wine has no place in the equation.
Eh.
I don't suppose a wine cooler will kill me. Especially as I had no Diet Twist-Up to use as cooler and had to use, ugh, Diet V8 Berry Splash. (Oh yuck. It sounds worse in writing.) (Much worse.) (Maybe it WILL kill me.)
***
See the thing is, I certainly understand and appreciate what you're saying via email, but it's like, I don't care if my mind is ready to process or deal with stuff. It's gotta do it. I don't want to shirk, I don't want to be weak, I don't want to be a coward.
It's like, I probably wasn't ready to take three difficult classes in eight weeks (yes I was), but it had to be done, it had to be done now, and so I'm doing it.
If something is bugging me so much that I'm going from diurnal to nocturnal, that I'm having tantrums about my freaking modem, that I'm paralyzed over a flipping powerpoint decision, that I'm drinking cheap boxed Burgundy mixed with DIET V8 BERRY SPLASH (oh gawd), and wanting to cry about Hannibal Lecter... there's an issue that I need to deal with.
***
See, I typed to AAG yesterday that I think it's my fault. That there's something wrong with me.
And I do think that. There has got to be something wrong with me that causes stuff to happen. There has got to be something about ME, something that is my fault. And even though everything I'm talking about happened in the Eighties, early Nineties, I still think I have this something-wrong-thing lurking within me. Like malaria. Never really going away.
Sometimes I think that besides celibacy, besides choosing celibacy and apparently sticking to it because of my understanding that my manifestation of sexuality weakens rather than strengthens me, I should just kind of... never speak to another human again in my whole.entire.life.
Though um... This may not be entirely practical.
But see, what happens sometimes, most of the time, most of the time but not always, is that on the phone or in person, interacting with others, I'm not the me I want to be. The me I know I am. The smart, strong, capable me.
It's like another Achilles Heel.
I'm going to be talking to Karl on the phone today, over a totally computer-related issue, and I already know what's going to happen. My voice is going to rise, I'm going to be all stammering, everything I say is going to raise in inflection at the end, like everything I say is some kind of question, and I'm going to sound dumb.
You know, if you talked to me on the phone or met me in person, you would think I'm an idiot. You would never guess I'm this smart, tough, angry, well-vocabularied woman.
It makes me mad. At myself.
***
But I gotta go. I need to hike three miles with my trusty terrier companion. I was going to post my cell number here. As a kind of "Does Circe Sound Dumb?" social experiment, but I'm thinking I may want to give it a little more thought before I do it...
Ugh, I tried using V* splash as a mixer once. Of course, I was using it as a mixer for Bacardi 151 (or was it Everclear?.... I forget). The strong alcohol made the juice mix separate or something and the result was hideous. Nearly undrinkable, even.... Nearly ;)
I think if you have all this bouncing around in your head, that means it IS time for you to deal with it. Otherwise, you would have quietly repressed it yet again.
;) And if you want another opinion on your phone mannerisms, I'd be happy to help
but it's like, I don't care if my mind is ready to process or deal with stuff. It's gotta do it.
Well then, sounds to me like that means that your mind is ready to deal with stuff. What Dave said.