This is your brain on coffee. Any questions?
Ah, morning of all mornings.
- Today I was looking for my khaki skirt but could not find it. So I saw my backup one (yes, my shopping compulsion pays off wonderfully) and decided to iron it.
- While the iron heated, I figured I’d blow-dry my hair; the hair dryer is on my desk next to the window.
- The window overlooks the parking lot, and I happened to be parked right beneath my window.
- My trunk was open. In broad daylight, of course. And had been all night, as I’d meant to take something out of the trunk yet somehow in the split second after hitting the lever to release it, I forgot all about it.
- So I dashed outside with wet hair and in flip-flops and closed the damn trunk.
- When I dashed, I bumped the ironing board and knocked down the hot iron — onto the shirt I was planning to wear today.
- I ran back upstairs from the car, shocked that everything was intact, closed the door and sniffed. The iron! The cotton! The mess!
But it’s cool — the little shitfest of bad luck helped me greatly, as I sailed the highways at warp speed and passed 12 cop traps that had ensnared other unfortunate saps who hadn’t been so lucky. So, thanks for taking the hit so I could fly! 🙂
In other news, after a bit of a rough night, I have a weird sense of calm today. I don’t know if that’s calm-before-the-storm complacency or just a rare moment of peace.
My brain has sort of been a misery-fest, and the next person to tell me I might benefit from therapy or maybe I need a sunlight lamp has a cordial invitation to remove my foot from their ass. But I digress.
I found some joy in riding with the sunroof/windows open (it’s HOT in D.C. today), blasting my weird medley of Carrie Underwood, Usher and Madonna remixes. I had one of these weird little revelations in that I don’t emphasize the value of my time. All those times I worked soul-sucking jobs and put up with energy-siphoning “friends” — for what?
For what. Seriously.
Anyway, I sit around and feel sorry for myself from time to time that I’m sooo busy and I have nothing to show for it. And that’s just not true. There was a great article today on defining happiness by how much you flourish. That those of us who are struggling to define happiness on a moment-by-moment basis rather than a taking-our-knocks and winning-in-the-end basis, then we’re probably under the illusion that we’re happy but we’re not always flourishing by stopping by Old Navy after work and buying a new pair of jeans (like I did yesterday. *blush*).
I oftentimes have little pity parties (party of one), feeling all sorry and shit for myself because I’m lonely. But I’m not lonely, really. Just alone. Definitely a difference. So I treat myself to little things here and there, knowing how I used to spoil certain others who, in retrospect, didn’t deserve it and trying to give myself little reasons to keep going. And I don’t want to give that up — really, I don’t. But maybe I’ve got to hone my big-picture-thinking abilities and fight for what I want/need now and work my ass off to get the bigger things … not work my ass off to get the little, insignificant awards that I will forget as soon as I’ve put them down and stopped admiring them for the moment that they’d captured my attention.
I was reading an article in Cosmo this morning about how women seek praise/acceptance/warm fuzzies while men seek monetary gain. That we all have a price for what we do, but women are satiated so much more with the intangibles while men have better bank accounts.
In that case, if you’ve exhausted my resources physically, emotionally and/or in any other way, I am SO sending your ass a bill. 🙂 I know someone in particular who’d better be ready to cough up a million or 12! I think professional therapists have it right — sure I’ll put up with your stupid ass … for a price. Yay free enterprise!
I wonder if sanity can be retroactive, too.
Anyway.
The things I think about while I’m driving. …
March 10th, 2006 at 3:27 PM
Ah, the glory of driving topless… er with my top down… um, with the car’s top down! It was a great, happy morning, and now I’m chained to my stupid desk at home while my fiancé is driving my car. The absolute unfairness of it all!
Re: people telling you that you could benefit from therapy… my thoughts are like this (and not that you asked directly, but that comment thing and all.) Therapy is all well and fine if you need someone to help you dredge through your inner workings and figure out what makes you tick. If you know what makes you tick, no amount of therapy in the world is going to change it. All you can do is change how you react to other people’s bullshit.
I’ve been there, done that, fuck the t-shirt, I got an entire wardrobe. And it seems to me that if you can look back and say, “Oh yeah, I let that person suck the soul right out of me,” you have the knowledge to move forward without some therapist charging you $150 an hour. So screw everyone else. Be mad when you are mad, sad when you are sad, happy when you are happy. The concept that women are supposed to smile all the time and be chipper really puts a burr in my ass.
*cough* I’ll get off the soapbox now.
As far as women needing more of the warm fuzzies than the cold hard cash, I must be abnormal. Okay, okay, we knew that already, I know! But me, I’d rather have the *stuff*. Screw warm fuzzy feelings, show me the money. Maybe that’s a result of growing up in poverty, don’t know, don’t care. All I know is *stuff* makes me happy.
I’m a freak.
March 10th, 2006 at 3:37 PM
I grew up in poverty, I continue to be buried in debt because of bad choices and bad people who siphoned my limited financial resources as well. I always fight for what I want, but it’s like when I get the wind knocked out of my sails, it’s hard to get it back. But a nice warm breeze up my skirt, well then, I’m happy and sailing again!!! 🙂
Thanks Sabre. You make a lot of sense. *mwah!*
March 14th, 2006 at 9:47 AM
who needs therapy, isn’t that why we blog? To me, driving with the windows down and the radio cranked is the best kind of therapy I’ve found to date, it’s more mood-altering than alcohol or drugs.