in which I ponder my own brilliance and gorgeousness

Life is not about being happy. Happiness is a happy side effect that happens once in a while, but not always. If we were always happy, would we even know it? I rather think the human condition is such that we cannot be continually happy, because then happy would become normal and then we would equate happiness with ecstasy. We have to have the emotional chiaroscuro to fully appreciate those moments in which everything really is shot through with light like golden thread ... being unhappy is what helps us realize that joy is precious. (ah, joy ... such a better word than happy)

I posted this as a comment on a friend's blog post, which was on the subject of happiness and how Voltaire was not as smart as people want to think he was (she never once said that. I am taking liberties with interpretation). In the original comment, I misspelled chiaroscuro. So embarrassing. >.<

My pleasure in my own (not at all) brilliant words led me to ruminate on the following:
Occasionally the drivel that flows from my tongue (or fingers, as I type) resonates with self-proclaimed brilliance. I realize that I am delusional, and what I say is usually quite trite or pedestrian, but I prefer to think of myself as insightful and brilliant. I would never say that out loud and in public, but there you have it. It is a false confidence, just like when I look in the mirror and say "Daaaaaaaaamn, girl, you is FINE!!!!" and then proceed to make sexy faces at myself, sometimes going so far as to take pictures to forever preserve my gorgeousness on facebook. I have not forgotten that when I take the makeup off, my face is ordinary, and my blonde eyelashes give me "the odd, lashless look of a rabbit." But in my mind, on good face days, and on good brain days, I am gorgeous and brilliant. Just like the people who love me perceive me. I find it helpful to take pictures or jot down my self-deemed brilliant thoughts for posterity, and for myself ... because I never know how long those bursts of delusion will last. It's good to be able to remind myself that sometimes I look like this, and sometimes I say really cool things, and if I were Adele, people would post my brilliant words over a gorgeous picture of me, and then pin it all the fuck over pinterest.

If I were a famous person, my fans would do something like this.

quest: reclamation of self from the listless void

i don't know how to be a grown-up. i just ... don't. i wake up, get ready, go to work. it feels like school. sometimes i do errands before work, since currently i work the second shift. sometimes i'm late, and when that happens i just hope my boss doesn't decide to be upset about it this week. i clock in, log in to my phone, check my email, and then i sit at my desk and ponder what i have to do. usually i work on whatever project that has the most ominously looming deadline. it feels like one long study period, in which i have been given 8-9 hours to accomplish vague steps to an impossible goal, while being watched and judged by everyone around me. do they have nothing better to do than worry about my deadlines and productivity (or lack thereof)? after work, i go home. sometimes i go to the store on my way home, but usually not. when i walk in the door it's as if my clothes have suddenly become the itchiest, tightest, most uncomfortable garments ever sewn, from a "wool, fire ant blend", and my shoes become a half size too small. i strip down to my underwear in record time. i avoid the tempation of my comfy bed, because i know that i have to feed my body and unwind, and that sleep is not the solution. i consider what i really want to eat. tomato basil soup with small shells ... requires one large pot, one small pot, and a colander. two out of three are sitting in the sink with stacks of dirty dishes. dishes in the dishwasher are clean. this has been going on since sunday night's dinner with the boyfriend. and at this moment, i think, why didn't i clean these this morning? last night? sunday night? the bigger the mess, the more i hate the thought of dealing with it. so leftover spaghetti for the third night, and too tired to do anything about the kitchen. just like a kid resisting putting away toys, except no one is telling me to do it but the easily silenced voice inside my head. the clothes pile up on the bench at the foot of my bed, since it is the depository of every article of clothing i've worn since saturday. five days of panties are in a heap next to the hamper. why not in the hamper? i have no idea. after i eat dinner, i watch tv till the boyfriend calls, and then we talk till i fall asleep and say incomprehensible things, at which point he sweetly wishes me good night and sweet dreams, and i go to sleep wondering when it's going to fall apart.

where does my time go? there are 24 hours in the day. 9 of them are for working, and 7-8 of them are for sleeping. that leaves at least 7 hours of time for myself. i usually take 1 hour in the morning to get ready. do i really dick around for 6 whole hours every night? yes. yes i do. for 6 hours i prepare and eat dinner, watch tv, and look at the internet. i know i talk on the phone with the boyfriend for an inordinate amount of time, but we've only been together a month. this pattern of get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed, has been happening since january. what is going on with these un-accounted-for hours? void. i need to reclaim my void time, and use those hours doing things that make me feel like me.

• bubble bath
• mani/pedi
• lotro
• reading
• knitting (while watching tv)
• listening to good music
• sitting on my balcony at dusk (this can't be done while i work this shift, but it will be over in three weeks)
• basking in sunshine
• swimmy splashy class

i can do almost all these things after work, in the time i'm voiding. after tax season ends, i will be able to include the other activities as well. not every night, no. but if i plan a couple of home-maintenance activities for myself, and reward myself with an hour or two of the activities on this list, and then go the fuck to sleep, i can wake up in the morning early enough to have a peaceful morning hour for myself, to ease into the day. this is important and i am worth it. this might mean shorter conversations with the boyfriend. by might, i mean will. i think he'll understand. if he doesn't, he's an ass. so, i guess i have a plan for the personal portion of my time, i just need to manage the professional side. and since i have been at work for over an hour and have accomplished ... this blog post and updating some software, i'd say i really need to get on that right away.
more on that later.