Monday, January 23, 2012

Feelings of Inadequacy...

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking "oh no, she's going into another woebegone sob story about how she doesn't feel like she matters".  You're only half right.

I start with my feelings of inadequacy.  I've always felt like I was fairly easily forgettable.  I didn't feel like I made much of an impact in anyone's day.  Hell, I didn't think I'd made much of an impact in anyone's life.  Certainly not the way most people made an impact on me.  Sure I had fantasies of grandeur and of people remembering who I was years and years and years after we'd all lost touch, but they were simply fantasies that had no basis in reality, I thought.

You know that plotline from "It's a Wonderful Life" where the main character feels as though everything would have been better if they'd never been born?  Then they're proven wrong, and shown how everything would actually be worse if they'd never been around, blah blah blah.  I always wondered what the world would have been like without me, and you know what, I can't see it being overly affected.  Hell, it might even be better for some people.  I dunno.

This isn't to say I'm going to try something stupid, since I've been around of course people care about me and wouldn't want anything to happen, but if they'd never known me...what would that have been like?

Augh, point.  I had a point, this isn't just me rambling, I swear. (okay, it's me rambling, but I am trying to get somewhere).

But anyway, I've been learning recently that I am actually remembered by people who knew me way back when, &c, &c, &c.  They don't know it, but saying "oh we miss having you around" or "I'm so glad you're here" makes a world of difference in my day.  It's nice not to be overlooked sometimes.  I know it happens a lot.  (I'm not exactly noticeable, visually or intellectually.  I don't really make much of an impression, if I make one at all.  I'm not outgoing or vivacious or anything exciting.  I don't do much with my time, I'm working on a BUSINESS Degree for Christ's sake.  That's one of the more boring degrees, right next to Accounting and Finance.  I don't go out, I don't party, I don't know lots of people with lots of connections, I don't really hang out with many people outside of a close circle that consists of mostly my family and a couple others.  I'm an introvert with shy tendencies.  I connect more to inanimate objects than I do to people.  I know I'm not exactly the most interesting person on the planet.)

But every now and again, it's nice to hear that you've been remembered.  (I suppose Inadequacy wasn't quite the right word, but it rolls so nicely off the tongue/brain, that I can't really bring myself to change it.)

I hope that's plenty of parenthetical notes for you guys.  I swear, The Princess Bride is going to rub off on my writing style, and I'm not sure if it's going to be a good thing or a bad thing...

I think that's where I'll leave it, with me saying that, despite my boring-ness, I still sometimes get noticed, and that makes me feel good.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Thursday, January 5, 2012

There are very few times

Where I would choose to be proven wrong.  They come few and far between.  I'll admit it, I like being right.  It rarely happens, and usually it happens on one of the few occasions where I'd prefer to have been proven wrong.

I don't handle disappointment very well.

I just hate having been a poor judge of character.  All along, I thought, for some strange reason, that all my fears would be for naught and that everything would be okay.  That people would end up proving themselves to me.

I might be getting used to disappointment, despite it all.

My Mawmaw's funeral is on Saturday.  I've managed to get off work, and I'll be heading that way with my family tomorrow morning.

I really wish I'd been wrong.  I wish...I wish for a lot of things, but as wise men might tell you, wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which gets filled first.

I'll give you a hint, it's not the wish hand.

Which, actually is a nice segue into a related thought.  I find myself getting shat on more and more often as of late.  Which, quite frankly, sucks.  There's a shit stick, one end is clean and for holding and the other end is covered in shit.  I'm stuck between layers of shit on the shitty end of that stick, and it's getting beat into more shit.

Do you see where I might be going with this?  I'm starting to.

And the biggest problem is I'll never confront anyone about my getting shat on by them because by the time I think up a relevant, cutting remark to make them see what they're doing to me, the situation is long past, and my point is moot.

And here I thought I was making progress...HA! I crack myself up.

Until Next Time, dear readers

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

A sad post...

Because I don't want to put it on Facebook and upset someone in my family who might not know yet.

My Mawmaw (great grandmother) died at some point in the night last night.  I just got the call from my mom.

I was lucky that I got to be as close to her as I did over the last few years of her life.  She was nuts, but she was my great grandmother, and she happened to outlive her husband (which probably only made the fact that she had a few screws loose even worse).  Crap, I'm doing the humor thing again.

I'm really trying not to.  I'm trying to do this seriously.  I really am pretty shaken by all of this.  I guess...I guess where I'm trying to go with all of this is that I hope she's wherever people go when we die (heaven or otherwise) with Pawpaw, and that they're happy together again, bickering or no.  (It's what they did, if they didn't do it, there'd be cause to worry).

Mom's going to call me later today with the details about the funeral.  I really hope my grandparents are doing okay.  Especially Grandma, since Mawmaw was her mother.

Was...that's kind of final, isn't it?


Okay, I'm going to go cry now.  I'll...I'll write again later...

Until next time,