i had a lot of thinking time over the past week. it's kind of ironic that it takes being sick to give you the time for proper thinking. why don't we give the attention to thinking time that we need to on a regular, daily basis? and it struck me that we humans, we're never satisfied. i complained all week about being sick. instead of appreciating that i got the chance to rest my body and my mind during a week (the winter holiday) when not much work could be done anyway, i whined about it on facebook. instead of appreciating that i could lay in bed and read harry potter 'til my eyes crossed, i whined about it on facebook. (i'm starting to think facebook might be the problem. if it wasn't such a forum for whining, would i have done so?) there was actually no better time to get sick if i had to be sick.
early in the illness, i talked to a friend who had come to my drink & draw evening. she thanked me, said she had enjoyed herself and that it was a very different experience. and i couldn't help but bristle at that characterization. which only proves that we humans are never satisfied. i had done all that i could to make it an experience that departed from the norm - from the food, to the tonic to the gin to the drawing to the conversation. and yet, when it was recognized as being different, it gave me a moment of insecurity. i suppose i felt a pang of it being a bad kind of different (tho' i'm quite sure that's not what she meant). and i just couldn't help but feel a little bit insulted, just for a moment. and then i relaxed and remembered that being different was what it was all about. it's good to be different.
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who's the barbarian?
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why we love the pretty.