Nothing is less attractive than those that dwell in the land of all about me. I say this as a person who believes that I am the center of all things. The twist is I realize that I am demented and have delusions of grandeur. My list of failings is as long as santa’s naughty and nice list. I’m a loud talking cackler. I foolishly believe I have the power of sight, you know like a witch. I have a terminal case of CRS (can’t remember shit). I’ve got no filter. The more nervous I am the more inappropriate I become. The same for when things become too quiet. I have no measure of when I have crossed the line until I see that I have on another person’s face. The problem being that sometimes my inappropriateness causes the room to go quiet so I must fill that with more line crossing. I obsess about spills on my shirt which is debilitating due to my extreme haphazardness which causes me to spill….a lot. Also I walk into things…often. In short I am a steamroller. A big loud dirty wrong house flattening steamerroller… With embarrassingly short arms who hasn’t seen her feet since she was 12.
My saving grace? Empathy. I know it. I’ve been known to work it. I own it. I honestly believe that you have to take a good hard look at yourself if you have any hope of keeping a pinky in reality. Those that have built their home in the land of all about me are so afraid to list their failings that they spend their life talking about their goodness. To me raving about yourself is a lot like talking about your underwear. It’s not that interesting. In fact it’s a bit off putting. So unless you wear money or gummi bear underwear, let’s start looking out instead of within.
You have been rolled. Hope it didn’t hurt too much. Sorry about the garden.