|Me and one of the men I cannot|
imagine life without - Jeremy!
Jeremy and I, more than anything else, like talking about people. No, we don't gossip. That's terribly juvenile and unsubstantial. Rather, we like analyzing people in general, how different kinds of people fit into certain social situations, and how we tend to play our cards in the same situations. The cards he and I value the most are politeness and grace. Jeremy and I have both come to terms with the fact that shit does in fact happen to the best of people, at the most inconvenient of times, and on a fairly regular basis. We're also very much aware of the fact that the only forgivable unfortunate turns of events are those that are organic and subject to the laws of physics. Those are few and rare. The ones that are a bit more relentless come from people, so if there are things anyone has to master, it's a convincing smile, a polite laugh, small-talk on autopilot, anger management, and conserving your energy for necessary interactions with people who matter. In short, put on a happy face, and keep your real sentiments to yourself. Be politely evil.
(Jeremy, my darling, if you are reading this, know that I love you and people will only slightly think less of you after this entry is done.)
|OM NOM NOM NOM|
You probably don't know this about me yet, but I consider myself to be pretty bionic. I hardly ever get sick, thanks to good genetics and the additional immunity I've acquired from my years as a student nurse. Thing is, when I do get sick, it's a tough bug to beat. And because it so rarely happens, I like to indulge in a little self-pity whenever I'm down with something. There we go! Finally, the title of this entry has come into play. Whenever I'm sick, I wear my tired, frowny face along with the most unflattering and mismatched house clothes I have in my closet and either sprawl myself on a couch where household members can see me and my sad state, or lay in my bed for hours and enjoy having my mother bring me good stuff from the kitchen. (Oh wow, that was probably one of the longest sentences I have ever composed ever, ever, ever.)
I'm a very effective wallower in self-pity and moping around, I'll have you know, so if anything, I think it's the extra TLC I get from my family and best friends that makes me get well sooner. If I play my sick card right (and I know I do), there's a change of gears in the house and I feed off of all the love and care that I can squeeze out of their little hearts. Oh, I wouldn't call it manipulation. Wouldn't call it regression either, even though I'm sure manipulation and regression fit well. I think it's more of knowing what you truly need, and remembering that nothing shining, shimmering and splendid can ever compare to feeling taken care of.