One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders
abiona

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It was beautiful today.

But I was not. I did look cute today, I suppose, but things have been bothering me for days now and I feel that these unsolved problems taint my mood.

Why am I what I am? Am I aware of what I am, am I conscious of what this being causes to happen about her? It is my fault. It is not. It is both and yet neither. It is a lot of things, how am I to explain?

I am one of those people who claims to look just as she is, and yet there is (of course) irony to such an idealistic sentiment. I do not wear makeup on a daily basis, and I favor baggy clothing; it is in this way that I highlight (rather than hide or disguise) what could be considered my physical flaws. But I play the part of a reserved individual, and those who encounter my exterior persona often never really have a clue what I am thinking, feeling, saying, and doing beneath. You think I'm weak? You're wrong. Do you think that I am strong? I'm afraid that you're incorrect as well. I am many things all at once, a bagful of working contradictions. Yet to look at me, you would see a quiet, unremarkable someone who is socially inept. I am neither inept (now, I choose to keep my distance) nor unremarkable (life, once you know me, is never quite the same it seems), but this is the way it appears when I go about "as I am." So though I say it, it is not quite true.

Though is this a bad thing? I can't say at this point, for all lives are full of these little falsities, and it is true that it saves me much grief (as it doubtless does countless others). I prefer to slip under your radar, because chances are, you won't know how to deal with what I really am.


Lately those of us in this particular building have been roasting alive, for despite the pleasant weather, the heating seems to have perversely increased rather than decreased (and it's been annoyingly high all winter - stop complaining about your energy costs and lower the damn heat already). I've opened all of my windows, and with the rain rolling in from the west, the temperature at my desk has finally become more bearable. It's so breezy in here right now, in fact, that all of my papers have flown from my desk and have scattered themselves to my four corners.

Two days have gone by since I returned here to the bubble, and yet I have not hung up my damp laundry that I completed but could not dry at home. Problem? Probably. But with the exception of that task, I have otherwise successfully cleaned my room (and even tackled a drawer).

I have also completely screwed up a drawing that was, up 'til that point, going quite well. I decided to try something different, and it all went to hell pretty quickly. I was frustrated enough with this disastrous turn of events that I took out my X-acto knife and cut out the portions which bugged me the most. The piece will remain incomplete and in a butchered state, I suppose, but it has potential as an idea for something else.


It "absorbed the brain" from Quina. They keep on eating Quina's brains!!

...

I am currently seeking a friendly Yan, but as of this moment have only found ones who wish to cream me into little dust particles spattered all over the earth. Just one little sheep with a bread roll for a head nearly kicked my ass! o_o Just two of those Vile Island puffballs annihilated me! O_O I swear I'll get you someday, you Virus-ing, Snort-ing, evil little Comet gnomes!
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