You know how sometimes, you think you’re feeling just fine and dandy (or about as fine and dandy as you ever do), and then something minute and stupid happens and the way it gets under your skin lets you know that you haven’t been so fine and dandy all along? Yeah, I’m kind of “in a mood.”
This is totally unrelated to the above, but something happened to my knee. Or my hamstring, I can’t really tell. While I was asleep. Other people get injured while they’re actually doing something; I am so talented that I manage to do it while lazing around. It doesn’t really hurt, it just twinges; but it’s extremely annoying.
I had an aphorismic (is that a word?… it is now) thought last night: The benefit of self-loathing is that nobody will ever hate you as much as you hate yourself. It makes perfect sense, really. Also not the most “appropriate” ruminations for Valentine’s Day!
Last week I randomly found this mug in my basement. I have no idea when or how or why it appeared in my house, but I don’t really care; I liked it, so I adopted it. Last night I used it for a monstrous bowl (mug?) of apple pie oat bran.
Oat bran, Truvia, apple pie filling, and cinnamon.
And then I used it today in conjunction with a new jar of salsa.
I can’t even begin to describe the incredible anxiety and agony that went into this next “creation.” Well, actually, I can, but that would just be whining and moaning and nobody wants to hear that, especially if it serves no purpose, which it doesn’t, so I’ll just save it!
Wheat berries, tofu steak, spinach, broccoli, zygote carrots, and raspberry chipotle salsa. Not a fork-and-knife meal. Didn’t really help the already-prevalent anxiety. Oh well!
That’s one thing that never changes. My earrings will always match what I’m wearing; if they don’t, it means I’m as good as gone.
Not to be overly depressing, or anything, but sometimes I wish that were the case. I am frustrated and irritated and feeling out of sorts and like I can’t do a damn thing about it, even though I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who can change it. When I was in high school, one of my friends was forever singing Simon and Garfunkel’s I Am A Rock:
I am a rock
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries
That described me perfectly then; we were all in agreement on that. It probably describes me perfectly now, too, if only out of sheer convenience. I have to feel (or not feel) that way. I have no other option. (Though I would like to point out that an island is essentially situated in an endless pool of tears. Just saying.)
Happy Presidents’ Day, if you’re in the States; happy Monday, if you’re not.
“Whether happiness may come or not, one should try and prepare one’s self to do without it.”
(I apparently suck at preparation)