Americans,
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10:00 am | 28 October 2003 | social insecurity deposit So, I am still struggling against this rampant insecurity, which travails include the following, of late: So anyway, though I have gotten better at accepting compliments and criticism with grace, it remains a veneer that is fooling nobody, cheap particleboard furniture that is so so so much heavier than real wood. Part of it is an inverse fear that relates back to my own prejudices, of course. It's like this: I realize that to those who don't know me, this may sound insufferably snobby. Be that as it may, I do have a point, and I am approaching it, albeit in a sidling, coy way. That's how girls do things! It eliminates possibility of outright rejection. ANYWHO, here I go. I am afraid to be like "Hey, assheads, check MY shit out, because it is totally sweet!" because I'm afraid that it is totally un-sweet-to-the-point-of-bitterness, like this terrible vegan cookie I wasted $3 on last week, and that my pointing out my own idiocy will elevate me to the level of "hateable," instead of merely "crappy, yet ignorable." You see? You see how that works? And leave it to me to be totally useless at any qualifiable task. Can't I just become a professor of reassuringly right-or-wrong math? Noooo, I have to be into "art" and "poetry" and "making pointless objects like matchbox puppet theatres while studiously ignoring the growing landmass of laundry that threatens to consume my home." Frick. clm. unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04. |