Optimism - A Curse

Wearing white pants ALWAYS makes me want to be wearing a gold chain belt like as if I was Carmela Soprano or like if it was the very late 1990s when those were totally in style for 10 minutes.

I still have one and right now, I wish I'd put it on, no lie.

I also wish I wasn't restless and that I had seating in my spacious living room but everybody has to have a dream, no?

My General Frustration can likely be attributed to the weather, I guess.
I dunno.
I hate everything.
I know why but I'm not saying and so I'll blame the weather because it's easy.

It was 100 degrees this weekend.
I used to find a certain poetry in the heat but I'm over it, at least for the time being.
The only plus side to the heat of this weekend was that my doglet was slowed down a little and was as drowsy as I was.
It was my first weekend without a single obligation and I made the most of it by doing the least possible amount of stuff I could.
I did not go out.
I did not clean.
I went to the library and the rest of my time was spent mainly in bed, which was fine but it was certainly no couch.
I prefer my lazy weekends to go down on a couch so that there's more of a lazy aesthetic than one of invalidicy but whatevs.
Beggars can't be choosers.

It was too hot to do anything, seriously. I mean, I'll acclimate and everything, I will but it is like if you are plunged into a freezing cold pool only the total opposite.
You freeze up for longer than you would expect and it's a total shock to the system.
My total shock of HOT resulted in heat rash, frizzy hair, a horrible disposition, and negative amounts of energy.
Dialing the phone was a bit much.
Turning a page made me feel like I needed a nap (and, yes, I took one after every page).
Thinking made me cry but that made me sweat so I basically decided there was no option but to shut down and shut out.
The only thing I did was take out the trash and the recycling and believe me, it was a fucking hassle.

I did take my new skates to be stretched so that my platypus feet could be accommodated in my new skates.

This is only notable because it was an action that resulted in a new crush, a more intense and realistic one (at least in some ways) than the crush on Employee #15.

My new crush has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen in my life, I mean... ever.
He was outgoing and into derby and he made me feel less like the troll princess I was feeling like prior to answering his questions about being at the next game:
"I'm not playing but I'll totally be there!"
"Good - me too!!"

Is there a ray of hope for our pasty-faced, chubette, zombie-smelling heroine?
Is her optimism just pathetic and sad at this point?
Is she fucking delusional about ever meeting someone who is good and kind and employed and confident on a non-dickhead level?
More importantly, how will our frizzy-haired troll stalk down a dude who works at an outdoor store when she's not so much for the outdoors as she is for renting movies?

I didn't even dry my hair or wear non-ripped clothes that fit when I went into the outdoor store so I'm only optimistic because of the fact that I am CURSED by the belief that someday, everything will come up Millhouse for me.

Oh what wicked webs we weave when first our psyche practices to deceive.
You would think by now that I understand my history of being completely unlovable and the object of affection for countless short-term affairs with guys who my friends later tell me that they knew were assholes long before I became moderately involved with them.
If you think he's an asshole and you know I'm dating him, maybe you could let me know about that?
Or even hint at it?
I have a long history with guys who lose their minds over girls.
Alternately, my history includes guys who turn out to be arrogant entitlement-driven jerks.
Let me know ahead of time and save us all a little grief, yeah?

I can't stalk this dude so I'm going to have to be upfront about it.

Now, this is interesting because of all of my girls, I was ALWAYS the one who was not a chicken.
I used to operate under the theory that the worst that can happen is that someone says no.
I've found that this isn't exactly the whole truth.
Sometimes, the worst that can happen is that someone says yes and he turns out to be an S., a B., an E., an M., or a T.
The worst that can happen is that my angry little world can be made angrier or more disappointed and there is a huge, glaring irony in this:

I am an optimist.
In my gut, in my heart, in my hopes and dreams and expectations, I 100% believe that things will work out for me.
I don't pin this on any one person, ever; that is to say that I don't go so far as to believe that I have found Mr. Right every time I become involved with someone. I always know the true meaning of each relationship once it starts.

But there is always that seductive glimmer of hope - every optimist knows of which I speak on that. It's like there's a magical shine on anything new and possible and an optimist will hover for a few seconds longer in the suspension of disbelief. It's got a dark side to it - there's no longer any crash or anything but there's a boneyard for minor, everyday disappointments and I'm always worried that someday I'll run out of room for them and I'll be trapped in full-blown cynicism.
Then I wonder if that wouldn't be so awful.

I mean, it would be tragic, I know.
But it would be easier.

Oh well.
If it hasn't happened by now, it will never happen so let's get existential and back to the hill and back to work on that rock, shall we?

arizonasarah at 10:42 a.m.

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