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Neil Young #1 Hit
I'm antsy.
Before Christmas, I put away the crossword book and made Christmas cards at work. When I finished making cards for my friends and relations, I figured what the hell, and made little cards for everyone in the department. Many of my co-workers expressed admiration for having the patience to make all those cards. I told them that I like to have something to do between calls.
Now that Christmas is over, there's not much to do between calls. There's meebo, which lets me talk on yahoo, but only a few people are actually available for chatting during the daytime, and when they're not on, meebo stares at me mockingly. There's the Quality Popular Crossword Puzzle book, but now I'm getting to the Hard puzzles at the end of the book, with clues like "Neil Young #1 Hit" and "Famed Cubs Second Baseman" and it's easy to lose interest. There's the window, which looks out onto a snowy field where deer sometimes frolic, but the deer are frolicking elsewhere today. So I'm antsy.
Recently I started thinking about different aspects of myself, and wrote briefly about how I am tired of being Girl Who Worries Too Much. I would like to dismiss her. Foolish Girl is, frankly, not my favorite either. She's clumsy; she trips over invisible steps; she blushes for no reason and then blushes more when someone notices. I've noticed though, that other people seem to find Foolish Girl to be endearing.
I would like to be Cool Girl, who is ever elusive. I have an image in my mind of Cool Girl. She looks like me, but skinnier and with better clothes and better hair. She has bangs: Cool Girl Bangs, which I will never attain in real life, because I have curly hair and bangs are always a disaster. But it turns out that trying to be Elusive Cool Girl actually makes me turn into Girl Who Worries Too Much. I start second-guessing and fretting and wishing I had bangs. I have thoughts like, wait, what if I am supposed to act different? which is kind of a ridiculous thing to think about.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT: A HUMOROUS ANECDOTE
Today, I was texty at work. I had maybe forgotten to plug my phone in for some days, and the battery was maybe sort of low at the end of the day. When Spooki texted me asking, "How are you?" I had every intention of texting back with "Sick of talking about insurance payments but at least it's Friday! How are you?" I really was sick of talking about insurance payments. Lately it seems like every call is about Why Insurance Costs Money and What is the Last Possible Day We Can Make a Payment. So, there I was, texting at Spooki with a phone that was struggling valliantly to keep up, and just as I was starting the message, my phone said, "BATTERY WARNING" and then, "SENDING MESSAGE" and then, "MESSAGE SENT." I guess my phone thought it would use its last bit on energy to send a partial message. How much of the intended message did I type before it was sent off? "Sick."
The phone refused to turn back on, of course. I felt like I'd lied! I wasn't sick! Really!
An hour later, I plugged the phone into the car charger. It yawned and promply delivered two messages, one from Spooki and one from Ms A, both lamenting my illness and hoping I'd feel better shortly. "What's wrong?" Spooki had asked. "What's wrong is that my phone battery died in the middle of a message," I typed back, "Bats dying and all. Still, I thought at first that I had typed 'sick o' instead of just 'sick' and that would have been even worse, because it would have seemed to be directed at you personally. And at least I'm not sick and you're not a sicko." Spooki protested that he too is a sicko.
So sickos and bats dying at inopportune moments provided some amusement, and really it's nice to have friends who would have cared, had I been sick for real.
Before Christmas, I put away the crossword book and made Christmas cards at work. When I finished making cards for my friends and relations, I figured what the hell, and made little cards for everyone in the department. Many of my co-workers expressed admiration for having the patience to make all those cards. I told them that I like to have something to do between calls.
Now that Christmas is over, there's not much to do between calls. There's meebo, which lets me talk on yahoo, but only a few people are actually available for chatting during the daytime, and when they're not on, meebo stares at me mockingly. There's the Quality Popular Crossword Puzzle book, but now I'm getting to the Hard puzzles at the end of the book, with clues like "Neil Young #1 Hit" and "Famed Cubs Second Baseman" and it's easy to lose interest. There's the window, which looks out onto a snowy field where deer sometimes frolic, but the deer are frolicking elsewhere today. So I'm antsy.
Recently I started thinking about different aspects of myself, and wrote briefly about how I am tired of being Girl Who Worries Too Much. I would like to dismiss her. Foolish Girl is, frankly, not my favorite either. She's clumsy; she trips over invisible steps; she blushes for no reason and then blushes more when someone notices. I've noticed though, that other people seem to find Foolish Girl to be endearing.
I would like to be Cool Girl, who is ever elusive. I have an image in my mind of Cool Girl. She looks like me, but skinnier and with better clothes and better hair. She has bangs: Cool Girl Bangs, which I will never attain in real life, because I have curly hair and bangs are always a disaster. But it turns out that trying to be Elusive Cool Girl actually makes me turn into Girl Who Worries Too Much. I start second-guessing and fretting and wishing I had bangs. I have thoughts like, wait, what if I am supposed to act different? which is kind of a ridiculous thing to think about.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT: A HUMOROUS ANECDOTE
Today, I was texty at work. I had maybe forgotten to plug my phone in for some days, and the battery was maybe sort of low at the end of the day. When Spooki texted me asking, "How are you?" I had every intention of texting back with "Sick of talking about insurance payments but at least it's Friday! How are you?" I really was sick of talking about insurance payments. Lately it seems like every call is about Why Insurance Costs Money and What is the Last Possible Day We Can Make a Payment. So, there I was, texting at Spooki with a phone that was struggling valliantly to keep up, and just as I was starting the message, my phone said, "BATTERY WARNING" and then, "SENDING MESSAGE" and then, "MESSAGE SENT." I guess my phone thought it would use its last bit on energy to send a partial message. How much of the intended message did I type before it was sent off? "Sick."
The phone refused to turn back on, of course. I felt like I'd lied! I wasn't sick! Really!
An hour later, I plugged the phone into the car charger. It yawned and promply delivered two messages, one from Spooki and one from Ms A, both lamenting my illness and hoping I'd feel better shortly. "What's wrong?" Spooki had asked. "What's wrong is that my phone battery died in the middle of a message," I typed back, "Bats dying and all. Still, I thought at first that I had typed 'sick o' instead of just 'sick' and that would have been even worse, because it would have seemed to be directed at you personally. And at least I'm not sick and you're not a sicko." Spooki protested that he too is a sicko.
So sickos and bats dying at inopportune moments provided some amusement, and really it's nice to have friends who would have cared, had I been sick for real.
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