Don’t like no short people… (go Randy Newman!)
Seriously– yesterday, the short people literally DROPPED into a coma, at around 2:00 pm. We actually STOOD THEM UP, to wake them up, and they just dissolved into sleeping puddles of short people…until arund 7:00, when they woke up, REALLY woke up, and ran around in circles until one in the morning.
This morning I was walking the tightrope of sleep-deprived reality in double time, and the sweetest thing that happened to me was the nap I got when Chicken got home. I told the tall food-suckers to mind the short people and slept for two hours. It’s the only way I got through our ‘Course Faire’ function tonight, but it doesn’t feel like it really took.
The really exciting thing about the ‘Course Faire’ is that I got to sign people up for the Creative Writing class… and I’m starting to feel some real enthusiasm about teaching it. Huzzah! Maybe I’m good at this… I seem to remember being good at this… wouldn’t it be wonderful if I was good at something?
I’ve actually started a list of shit that I don’t do well… it’s sort of daunting– want to see?
Politics
Chess
Dieting
Keeping track of the date
Doing simple math in my head
Cook
Clean
Drive
Park
Fix cars
Do word puzzles
Do jigsaw puzzles
Follow written directions or diagrams
Scrapbook
Take pictures
Computers
Compartmentalize my emotions
Calm down
Refuse to obsess about stuff
Rein in my children
Rein in my students
Remember to mark tardies
Shop
Spend money
Curb my yarn budget
Dress
Groom (you all should see my hair)
Garden
Punctuate sentences
Decorate
and I can’t go on–it’s just too depressing. I mean OI! Is it any wonder I’m psychotically insecure? What exactly do I have to be secure about? My stunning ability to write in the midst of the giant pile of crap on the kitchen table? Really–if there was award for that, I might have the self-esteem to make a diet stick!
But enough of that (MORE than enough I can hear you shout!) Let’s move on to fiber content. I’ve started my roulette sock, and I made it a little bigger, and now I’m spazzing out that it’s too big. I had NO idea how nerve wracking this would be if you suffer the ‘big-ass-feet’ malady–large ankles? Small ankles? Medium ankles and large feet? I’m at a loss. I’m just gonna hope the ankle isn’t too big, that’s all. I like the way the sock looks when it’s done (I’ve finished the first test sock) and now I can only hope the size takes care of itself.
And I heard something really disturbing while watching CSI tonight (because, you know, watching them pull maggots out of blood pools shaped like turtles isn’t disturbing enough.)
“They’re trophies,” said Lawrence Fishburne, referring to the many lovely objects d’art accrued by a con man. “Collecting is pathological behavior, whether you’re a rich man with art, or a serial killer.”
Or a knitter, surrounded by boxes of sock yarn. Yup. The things you can learn on C.S. I.!
And now this sleepy pathological insecure psycho is going to bed!
