Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again...
...only it wasn't Manderlay, it was Taylorsville. Taylorsville is the tiny ville between the mart of rocks and the ville of Carters. I dreamt granny was alive. Again. When she is alive in my dreams, I always know she is really dead and I am always very careful around her. She seems very delicate and I don't want to make her disappear. Last night, I went to the movies with her! This is something that I don't think ever took place in real life. My parents dropped me off at granny and paw's (sic) a couple of times when they went to the movies I think. Or maybe they went to "the movies". Maybe it was code. I wonder if I will ever see her again. I miss her.
In browsing around on the internet, I sometimes see things that make me feel funny in my stomach. I see things written by and to a girl I know. It seems to me that she is surrounded by people that try to make her feel special and basically like she is just the neatest, most original and solid thing since sliced bread. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that and I figure it must be nice to have people kissing your ass all the time and telling you how wonderful you are and otherwise intimating that they appreciate you for what you really are. Heh. I sort of try to imagine what it would be like to be around be who appreciate you for what you are...or who you feel like appreciate you for what you are. I suppose that's what it's really about. I feel like I am only appreciated for sticking around. So, I'm here. Oh well. Feeling sorry for one's self is probably the most unatractive thing a person can do perioid, ever. It has certainly screwed me over. At least now I only feel for sorry for myself about once or twice a month instead of once or twice a minute.
I have to go. I am late for a meeting at a fire department, oddly enough. I want coffee. For those of you who are keeping track, I think I have happily lost the battle both against coffee and alcohol addiction.
Man, I bet some people with no sense of humour will read this and shake their heads in sincere condescending judgement. At least I can still feel sorry for other people too. We are really all in the same giant boat. I don't know why some people have to act like they are watching you from the solid ground.
In browsing around on the internet, I sometimes see things that make me feel funny in my stomach. I see things written by and to a girl I know. It seems to me that she is surrounded by people that try to make her feel special and basically like she is just the neatest, most original and solid thing since sliced bread. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that and I figure it must be nice to have people kissing your ass all the time and telling you how wonderful you are and otherwise intimating that they appreciate you for what you really are. Heh. I sort of try to imagine what it would be like to be around be who appreciate you for what you are...or who you feel like appreciate you for what you are. I suppose that's what it's really about. I feel like I am only appreciated for sticking around. So, I'm here. Oh well. Feeling sorry for one's self is probably the most unatractive thing a person can do perioid, ever. It has certainly screwed me over. At least now I only feel for sorry for myself about once or twice a month instead of once or twice a minute.
I have to go. I am late for a meeting at a fire department, oddly enough. I want coffee. For those of you who are keeping track, I think I have happily lost the battle both against coffee and alcohol addiction.
Man, I bet some people with no sense of humour will read this and shake their heads in sincere condescending judgement. At least I can still feel sorry for other people too. We are really all in the same giant boat. I don't know why some people have to act like they are watching you from the solid ground.
posted by la fille du fromage at 8:53 AM
3 Comments:
I guess no one will ever read this, but maybe you will get it in your email.
Well, I for one will always appreciate you, no matter what happens and forgetting what has happened. Well not forgetting but not thinking about it if at all possible.
I guess it is a weird stalker thing to read your old posts, but you are damn near as fabulous as bacon, to my thinking.
I hope you come back to blogger at some point, and we can be bloggo friends of some kind.
You might be amused to know I have switched from guinness to 40s because I need to converse money til I sell my land or get a job.
I hope all is well with you.
I guess no one will ever read this, but maybe you will get it in your email.
Well, I for one will always appreciate you, no matter what happens and forgetting what has happened. Well not forgetting but not thinking about it if at all possible.
I guess it is a weird stalker thing to read your old posts, but you are damn near as fabulous as bacon, to my thinking.
I hope you come back to blogger at some point, and we can be bloggo friends of some kind.
You might be amused to know I have switched from guinness to 40s because I need to converse money til I sell my land or get a job.
I hope all is well with you.
I guess no one will ever read this, but maybe you will get it in your email.
Well, I for one will always appreciate you, no matter what happens and forgetting what has happened. Well not forgetting, but not thinking about it if at all possible.
I guess it is a weird stalker thing to read your old posts, but you are damn near as fabulous as bacon, to my thinking.
I hope you come back to blogger at some point, and we can be bloggo friends of some kind.
You might be amused to know I have switched from guinness to 40s because I need to converse money til I sell my land or get a job.
I hope all is well with you.
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