So what am I doing?
Sitting on my ass in front of the computer... listening to soul coughing.
It'll all get done, I think.
I'm just a little tired and achey. I'm a woman of superhuman strength every moment I'm at work. But then I come home and turn into an old lady with crushed glass in her joints and a pronounced limp.
I have too much clothing in general. I think what I'll do is find an outfit I really like and just buy duplicates of it, one for everyday of the week. That and two work uniforms should take care of my clothing needs and I'll give the rest to charity.
Sounds good, I think.
I'm on my 3rd load of laundry and I dunno how this will all get done tonight in enough time for me to get a few hours of sleep before work in the morning. Plus I should really be packing.
But I'm not.
I'm sitting on my ass in front of the computer... listening to soul coughing.
I feel enriched and rewarded. I've listened to every single one of these songs hundreds of times. But they never ever fail to draw me in and I never get bored with it. Even a song like Super Bon Bon has this bizarre complexity and layering that lets my ears always find something new.
Do any of you know *exactly* what people think of you? Not what they tell you... but what they think when they aren't telling you. I realized today that I honestly have no clue of people's perceptions of me unless it's at one extreme or the other of the possible reaction spectrum. Unless you're following me around drooling and grovelling, or sneering at me and writing nasty things about me I've no idea what's running through your head about me.
I think most people are like that.
And that gets close to why we're all such idiots. Not because we don't know.. but because we *want* to know.
I would love to know what the backroom guys who chitchat with me really think of me, given the things they've had to say about Rhiannon. I would enjoy knowing what random customers in the store think of me when they walk past.
And it would be a lot more fun staring at the not-typically-attractive guys who come into the store if I knew that they were blushing because of an 'awww-shucks' reaction to the cute lil blue eyed girl staring at them and not because they think I think they're stealing.
Yep. I stare at the non-pretty boys sometimes. Pointedly. I enjoy it somehow. Becuase they always notice, they never say anything, and they always, always blush and pretend not to be watching back.
I wonder if I still have a pair of gloves.