I hate being imperfect. I hate it.
I hate when I get angry at things that I really shouldn’t get angry at. I hate the word “should.”
I hate when I feel I am being really funny, and no one is laughing. I hate when people don’t get my jokes.
Shall I try to be a bit more positive in this entry and change the word “hate” to the word “dislike?” Or did I actually just change the word “should” to “shall” to make it seem more proper and less matriarchal?
I hate that I already feel I should be censoring most of this entry because my mind is reeling with how many people I know who will be reading it. Is this ballsy or just plain stupidity?
I hate that I mumble my words together and then I get made fun of for it. Most of the time I pretend I don’t mind, I laugh at myself and say it’s been my lifelong joke. After all, we’re adults and we’re not supposed to get hurt by small jokes at our own expense. Hell, living in England, I’ve had to get even more of a backbone. This isn’t LA sweetie, people aren’t there to praise you all the time. Chin up and all that. I even have a bookmark that my boyfriend gave me from Mumbles, Wales that says just one word “Mumbles.” My cute nickname. I have an excuse for it though – my mumbling – when I was young, I had a speech impediment, (that usually shuts them up for a second) and I always say that when I’m on stage, I don’t mumble. It’s amazing! The stage allows me to be clear and coherent. But still, when I get really comfortable with someone, I let my mumbles come out. And then I get made fun of for it. It’s frustrating not being understood when that’s the only thing in the world I want to be.
I hate that my teeth are starting to yellow.
I hate that I can’t just accept when I’m angry at something and I want to quickly apologize and pretend that that feeling didn’t happen. It doesn’t exist. I’m not an angry person. I’m at one with myself. I am a happy person.
Sometimes I’m not happy though. Most of the time I am, but sometimes I get annoyed.
And then, when I read other blogs where people rant about what’s wrong with the world, I get even more annoyed. Who are they to share with the world how t’d off they are with it? Why do I want to read that? Why do I want to subject myself to miserable people?
Tonight that feeling feels different. I understand where they’re coming from. It is life, isn’t it? I just try not to share that side too often.
But here I am, ranting and raving at everyone else’s expense. I am truly sorry for this. (See, there I go again apologizing for being angry).
Maybe I’m not sorry. Maybe tonight I just feeling like being a bitch.
(I’m sure I’ll apologize tomorrow). In fact, I’m sure this entry won’t even be here tomorrow.
**(This is my third time taking this down and putting it back up. Perhaps there is something to be said for momentary lapses of depression and anger. Perhaps that’s when honesty really comes out, and others can relate.) Thanks Dad for this quote -
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Nietzsche