Drama Queen
I create drama. It's not so hard, really -- if you know someone well, knowing exactly which buttons to push in order to create some fantastic emotional fireworks is easy as pie. I'm an expert at it, a master of emotional manipulation, a girl in whose veins flows an ancient gift -- the unspeakable power to piss people off. I don't know why I do it...except maybe siphoning off some of my anger?depression?rage?misery? into someone else distracts me somehow.
Let me back up. You, fair reader, have perhaps noticed a trend in my last...oh say, 6 or 7 blogspots...in which the tone is less Sugar-and-Spice and more Arsenic-and-Straight-Razors. I'm lashing out -- I've gotten simultaneously more vicious towards those who've somehow earned my antipathy, and more...well, "whiny" is as good a word as any...in my description of my day-to-day situation. I'm sorry for that. It can't be that fun to read a blog that could be pithily translated: "bitchbitchbitchCurrentCrushwhinewhinewhineVibrator".
I'm just so unhappy all of the time, I guess it was naive to think it wouldn't spill over into Sushi. This is hardly new -- my slide into melancholy is (like the shape of my hands, my fair-Irish coloring, my bottom-heavy mouth) inherited. I lost out in the genetics lottery -- Molly got my mother's bone structure and AJ got her eyes, while I got her mood swings, going up and down so fast those standing nearby are prone to whiplash. I'm about 92.7% sure that I'm bipolar (based on the symptoms listed here). Not crazy "Yea mortals, bow down before me for I am your God" grandiose bipolar -- I don't lose my grip on reality entirely (though Chaz might disagree with me there) -- I just...slip sometimes. It's like there are two people living in my head, the one who's bouyant and relentlessly optimistic fighting for control with the one who'd like nothing better than to gargle drano and tapdance in traffic. In point of fact, I have so many different personalities living in my head that I really ought to charge myself rent.
To tell you the truth...maybe the reason my exes morph into Turbo-Dick after we break up has less to do with their own inherent assholishness than I originally thought.
Anyway, no more posts about ME. Introspection leads to dangerous territory, boys and girls, and I'm not having it anymore. There are places in my head that should never see the light of day. There are wounds that hide in dark places and while I have counted each and every one, there is no reason for you all need to be privy to that sort of information. There are some things a well brought up young lady just does not discuss in public -- body hair removal procedures, the freshness of her nether regions (or lack thereof), and of course, any suspected mental disorders which may be lurking in her chemically imbalanced brain.
I need help.
Anyhoo, keep on the lookout for my next post, which will be a return to my socially conscious and somewhat feministy roots.
Thank God for ice cream, or I'd really be in trouble.
Let me back up. You, fair reader, have perhaps noticed a trend in my last...oh say, 6 or 7 blogspots...in which the tone is less Sugar-and-Spice and more Arsenic-and-Straight-Razors. I'm lashing out -- I've gotten simultaneously more vicious towards those who've somehow earned my antipathy, and more...well, "whiny" is as good a word as any...in my description of my day-to-day situation. I'm sorry for that. It can't be that fun to read a blog that could be pithily translated: "bitchbitchbitchCurrentCrushwhinewhinewhineVibrator".
I'm just so unhappy all of the time, I guess it was naive to think it wouldn't spill over into Sushi. This is hardly new -- my slide into melancholy is (like the shape of my hands, my fair-Irish coloring, my bottom-heavy mouth) inherited. I lost out in the genetics lottery -- Molly got my mother's bone structure and AJ got her eyes, while I got her mood swings, going up and down so fast those standing nearby are prone to whiplash. I'm about 92.7% sure that I'm bipolar (based on the symptoms listed here). Not crazy "Yea mortals, bow down before me for I am your God" grandiose bipolar -- I don't lose my grip on reality entirely (though Chaz might disagree with me there) -- I just...slip sometimes. It's like there are two people living in my head, the one who's bouyant and relentlessly optimistic fighting for control with the one who'd like nothing better than to gargle drano and tapdance in traffic. In point of fact, I have so many different personalities living in my head that I really ought to charge myself rent.
To tell you the truth...maybe the reason my exes morph into Turbo-Dick after we break up has less to do with their own inherent assholishness than I originally thought.
Anyway, no more posts about ME. Introspection leads to dangerous territory, boys and girls, and I'm not having it anymore. There are places in my head that should never see the light of day. There are wounds that hide in dark places and while I have counted each and every one, there is no reason for you all need to be privy to that sort of information. There are some things a well brought up young lady just does not discuss in public -- body hair removal procedures, the freshness of her nether regions (or lack thereof), and of course, any suspected mental disorders which may be lurking in her chemically imbalanced brain.
I need help.
Anyhoo, keep on the lookout for my next post, which will be a return to my socially conscious and somewhat feministy roots.
Thank God for ice cream, or I'd really be in trouble.
posted by Sunny @ 2:43 AM
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