"Alicson is great!"...but doesn't know what to do if you say so
slated in mused
at 10:50 pm
I don’t know why I’m bad with compliments. ‘Someone says something nice, then you smile and say “thank you” and keep up the good work.
I’m pretty fine with complimenting others. And I’m quite good at saying thank you…
But for about as long as I can remember, or at least the past 10+ years, despite thriving on positive reinforcement,
despite being fully deserving (at least some of the time?) praise,
despite often feeling entitled to praise,
when someone compliments me personally or something that I’m doing, I usually just get sort of sheepish and respond with something to the effect of “well it’s not finished…” or “not really” or “it’s just something to do..” or I quickly change the subject or give some other deflective response. And I’m not being disingenuous or insincere, and I do really, really appreciate the praise…
I.. I know it’s something to do with balance, but it might go all the way back to elementary school… playing myself down to bring up others.. But.. that hasn’t been applicable for a really long time. I’m not sure why I still do it.. and I’m noticing it more, but I’m thinking that’s a lot likely because I’m in a 9-5 daily environment where people have lots of room to give small, frequent compliments..
This is still truth about nine years later. Except that last line, that's taken somewhat of a turn..
And/But then there’s the personal comments/compliments that are really nice or sweet, and depending on the context/words/person saying them, those can just throw me almost to pieces. I think that’s a bit different, but not completely separate.
About half a decade ago, I went to a Matchbox Twenty/Lifehouse/Everclear concert. Seems like another lifetime; a different stage, different actors.
Toward higher, dryer, solid ground.
slated in mused
at 10:42 pm
I used to be able to drink a lot more in my younger days. I never did it often.. but even sparsely with friends, I don’t seem to be so keen on downing a glass of anything anymore.
I guess one does sort of grow out of those things… or maybe I just haven’t been in the mood. …
I think age and time, for the most part, makes us temperate.
Sent by a friend
Study Shows Males Commonly Mistake Sexual Intent
seattle-pk writes “Males are apparently clueless when it comes to interpreting sexual intent from females…. If you’re a male who ever mistook the meaning of a barista’s smile, looks like you’re not alone.”
The news is not new. Guys misinterpret; girls are vague/confusing.
But.. sometimes a girl is not vague, and the guy does not misinterpret.
slated in mused
at 5:53 am
I think the “I hate China” comments have tapered off. Hurrah! I’m still bewildered all around by it.
Despite the cause for suggestion, I’m not actually thinking less than I used to… I’m just not trying as hard to push those thoughts toward conclusions.
I’ve realized that, after finally finishing Neverwhere (Gaiman) a couple of weeks ago (after reading it off and on and between other books for the past several months), I haven’t really picked up another book regularly most probably because I can’t decide which book to read next. Rather sad to be overwhelmed by leisure reading.
This morning I happily digested a story from Dreamsongs (R.R. Martin) .. I think it was called The Lost Lands.
I really liked that R.R. Martin put into words (perhaps a bit more plainly/thoroughly than necessary..) the concept of grey and shadow being where strength and power lie. It’s not in pure white or black, good or bad, day or night. I remember arguments with a friend in college who believed very vehemently in the power of pure good and its simple strength in the face of evil, always. (He’s changed his mind since then, whether my arguments won out or not.)
“in a world where there is no right or wrong, everyone’s relatively right. everything matters. care is not the same as love. real love is not selfish. strife is based on miscommunication or refusal to communicate. not everyone can trust themselves. a person’s life and will is not just their own. ice cream is one of the fundamental substances of happiness. sense of self-responsibility paramounts all other personal traits. having faith is not the same as resigning to fate. everything will always ultimately be okay.”
We had less to do when we were younger and so much time to do it in.
Apple maple sugar oatmeal is my favorite.
Strawberries and cream is second fav.
I’m not a fan of the peaches, cinnamon, or plain flavors.
Breyers should not be allowed to make low fat ice cream. Maybe no one should be allowed to do it.
Unsurprisingly, the punchline to the monk’s riddle about the egg really isn’t very good (actually, it’s really pretty bad), but of course the intended message is meaningful and important.
Big (and hard to remove) labels do not belong on scarbes.
What would my animal spirit/guide/counterpart/soul be?
As long as I stay in bed in the morning, I can pretend the day has not started. And if the day has not started, then the night is not solidified/finished.. I can still be feeling like I’m 5 hours late for work, as I was in my dream, and still wondering what to tell my supervisor, though I’m awake now (and only an hour late). I can still be waiting for a new element or different perspective to the previous night. The night isn’t totally over and the new day hasn’t totally begun until I get out of bed. Chances.
I like bedtime because it’s a time to wind down and put things aside and keep only the comforting and the close things, and look forward to the next day. I like waketime because it’s time to gear up and be conscious and influence life and reality; gear up to eat raspberries and be squeaky clean and don my hood amidst the rain and navigate the world, choose my destinations and stops on colored paper and indicated by the turn signals, toss colored paperclips, berate my bluetooth headset for blinking, balance on the sidewalk curb, trade smiles, look for chocolate, win the biggest chocolate chip brownie through rock-paper-scissors.
I’m not in bed anymore. Yesterday’s chances stayed with yesterday.