My mom made me throw some of my old troll dolls in the trash yesterday. Now who’s the monster!?! I am. Anyway, I am still feeling pretty guilty from that. I hope those poor giblets realize I never stopped believing in them, but for the fact that their hair was getting untenable.
Also I don’t think it counts as emotional eating if your food has no expression on its face and neither do you when you eat it, right? Yeah, let’s go with that for all future guilt assessments.
Sometimes I can’t stop watching the Bravo TV channel and reading recaps of shows on there (TV recapping has become a most glorious and oft-tested profession in the entertainment biz). Not because it’s necessarily enlightening programming, but because it’s so over-the-top dramatic.** (smelly footnote)
Some of it is not so relatable:
Other times, entirely relatable:
I also realized recently just how much I love Tom Robbins. He is an author that makes language shimmy so that all of his words are like whirling dervishes on the playground at recess. And he’s a notoriously private person, which I immensely respect.
Here is a great quote from him from the book I am reading right now, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues: “Success can eliminate as many options as failure.”
This has been all over the place, just like life.
**And ostentatious drama actually makes me quite uncomfortable, not riled up and amused, but that’s why I find it so fascinating. I am like a robot studying yoo-man beings. It’s also why I have trouble with acting because I don’t emote as freely as most of you normals. So regular expression of my psyche feels like a caricature of what I’m supposed to be doing anyway. So when I’m actually faking it, I feel like I’m double acting. Cyborgs unite! We will master this species yet.