blocked

there are two particularly vicious types of writer's block. there's the kind where your life is really boring and you're forced to either philosophize or complain about the inanimate objects in your office. and there's the kind where your life is extraordinarily busy and every time you try to write, it turns into either a to-do list or a rant.

anyways, so... post-it notes... why do they insist on being neon colored? it's like they're stuck in some horrible time warp with one of my old scrunchies and the song "don't worry, be happy".

hehehe... i jest.

the past three days have been a brilliant swirling of busyness. the kind of busyness i like where there are straight forward projects i'm actually looking forward to doing.

the week before that was a different kind of busy because not only did i vow to work longer hours but i made a goal to be social. gloriously social. i was going to meet people and they were going to be both charmed and surprisingly fulfilled by my arrival into their lives, which i guess would make me a sort of mary poppinesque socialite the disney version. not the book version. or the new stage version which i hear is darker and with a few new songs and i totally want to see it.
anyways, i'd been invited to 4 different things throughout the week and i forced myself to go to everything i'd been invited to.
usually i don't keep my goals it's a thing so imagine my surprise for completing even the first part of my "quest of socialness" goal.
yep. i met people.
in abundance.
yet not one of them fell under my thrall. for the most part they were daringly apathetic to my machinations and consequently i spent most of sunday night analyzing my every move before finally concluding that even if i was 10 pounds thinner, it probably wouldn't have made a difference. again, i jest. er, sort of. which leaves only one other explanation.

people were repelled by my [gulp] personality.

great. just great.

i would so love to be able to blame my lackluster social occurances on people judging me by my appearance because then i could rant about how if they would only take the time to get to know me they'd really like me and you guys would leave a lot of sympathetic comments.
but sadly, that kind of appearancism doesn't really occur.
unless you're quasimoto. and you go to a visigoth party.
or you somehow find yourself in a teen movie. but in that case being made fun of by the pretty people isn't a bad thing. it actually means you'll end up dating jake ryan or freddie prince jr.

so, i was relieved to start another week. i enjoyed being able to turn my attention to dipping strawberries and writing on hearts with frosting sigh... i love valentine's day and making small talk with strangers who weren't looking at me with furrowed brow and backing slowly away.

i guess there's validity in the idea that my self image isn't shaped by the way others see me, it's shaped by the way i think others see me psychology 201 rears its ugly head. and really it's never going to end well when i base my opinion of myself on the reception i get by college football players.

this is all i'm saying.

oh. and also, i think i have strep throat.