Broken Bella Donna

{August 10, 2012}  

Feeling a touch tense about tomorrow. Have the Occasion Formally Known As Spazz Inducing, and I became a little spazzed the other day after making a poor decision. That always makes me a little hair triggered, and more likely to flare up under duress.

I have no reason to think that I should, other than it’s at the forefront of my mind.

It’s the first time I’ve had a problem for a little while now… popped a supplement.

Wish me luck.

{August 7, 2012}  

Sitting here, stuffing my face with chips… thinking about blogging.

That’s pretty much as far as I get these days – thinking about it.

I know no one much reads this blog, and I know that those who do seem interested in the mundane things in my life… I know I shouldn’t think I need to blog for others – unless I have one of those sorts of blogs, an entertainment blog – but I still feel the pressure to say something ‘interesting’.

My blog isn’t for entertainment; it isn’t meant to be funny, it isn’t meant to guide you or teach you anything. It isn’t for product reviews or any special subject. It’s just here to give me somewhere to blather on about my life, and to keep record of the good stuff – and the bad stuff, I suppose. It’s my place to vent and to relax. I suppose really, it’s just a diary that other people are allowed to pop in and read from time to time. I should not feel the need for approval, but in a way I do. I should feel comfortable enough to express everything and not hide behind tricky wording and code names and yet I don’t, for fear of someone ‘finding’ me. Hey it’s happened before and it’s a legitimate concern.

In saying that, anyone who walks into here from my real life would learn more about me than I probably would like them to know, so already I’m sunk. Why worry now?

I see other people’s blogs where they’ve made an effort on the appearance, they use pictures and they’re funny. Other people react positively and I think… I might like a piece of that. I’d like people to come and make lovely comments and make me feel like I’m popular. But I’m not clever enough to make my blog look good, I don’t care enough to find pictures and I’m just not that funny.

So instead I just come in here, lay my heart bare, occasionally produce a spectacular (it surprises me more than anyone, trust me) piece and wonder if anyone out there in the great world-wide web reads it and thinks “Hey. Go you. You are living the real life and you’re doing great. I might like to make a connection with you, and be someone you never meet, but remain someone who knows you.”

And it also just dawned on me that anyone reading this… right now… yes you… you know me better than my family, my friends (as it were), and anyone else who thinks they know me well enough to judge me. You not only have more insight into the inner workings of my brain than they do – more insight than is probably healthy, to be honest – but you probably (with the benefit of not being too close) know me better than I know myself.

This is what the cyber world has bestowed upon us. The ability to have complete strangers know you better than your own family. The chance to touch base with like-minded weirdos who you’d otherwise never know the existence of. The option of being heard, in a world full of people who can’t be bothered to listen to their own conscience, let alone the people around them.

Whoops. This entry got surprisingly poignant.

{August 4, 2012}  

I just discovered I have a follower who has been following me for a year – and I thought… whoa. I’ve had this blog for a YEAR ALREADY???

Eating chocolate with popping candy in it = win. As an adult, I think we should all enjoy popping candy from time to time, just to remind ourselves how awesome it is, and what sort of stuff we’re missing out on now we’re ‘old’ and it’s no longer socially acceptable to eat this stuff.

Maybe we should all do that socially unacceptable childhood stuff from time to time. Just because we can. Eat popping candy, play in autumn leaves in the park (pref. after some other adult has just finished raking them up), stand with your face upturned to the rain, dance in public, laugh at yourself if you fall over, loudly declare “Oh poop!” if something goes wrong when surrounded by strangers, and skip… skipping gets you there faster than walking but doesn’t puff you out nearly as much as running. I used to skip EVERYWHERE in college… good times.


Remember I was so pleased that the Spazz Inducing Situation only had two more days to go? Turns out it’s three, maybe four – we’ve been given an extra one, perhaps two cracks at it, but they’ll be so much BIGGER and therefore much more STRESS INDUCING… and I’m feeling bizarrely calm about it. I’m anticipating much more concern as we get closer to the day, but right now? Meh. I know I can handle it. I know it’s something I could do in my sleep, and once we arrive at the day, once I’m up to my elbows in it I’ll be fine – better than fine, I’ll be completely competent and the picture of control. It’s the lead up I can’t handle. So far so good on that front.


et cetera