By hissychick | March 21, 2013
I should have heeded the warning signs.
Wanting to blog again.
Lots of time on Farcebook
Disengagement of the filter between my mouth and brain.
Wanting to make those around me laugh all the time.
One communicative fuck up (again) at work, another online and a very minor one IRL and now I am in the grip of the fiend.
Anxiety sucks. Social anxiety even more so. My usual CBT learned thought challenges are not helping.
People bewilder me, and I have spent most of my lifetime trying to suss out their nuances, how they tick and how to put up an effective charade of normal. I specialise in the chameleon, in the hope that I will be accepted. Putting a foot wrong distresses me way, way more than I let on.
Right now I am exhausted with it all, and simply don’t have the energy to be funny. Or anything really. If only I could hibernate in a cave for a little while, recharge away from it all.
No chance of that.
So be gentle with me for now. I’ll be back to me- whoever that is- eventually.
By hissychick | March 12, 2013
It’s kind of fun to slink off from social media and into here. I find it very amusing that while this is ostensibly publicly accessible I have more privacy and the space to disappear up my own fundament if I so choose. No one is reading and I like it.
Having said that I’m more than a little ambivalent about returning to my blog. It brings out the teenage girl in me and I am not sure that’s wise. Next thing you know I will be quoting favourite angsty song lyrics and skirting coyly around the subject of crushes and feelings and makeup and stuff. We don’t need to go back there.
Humour is my default and my defence and while sometimes I’d like to reveal my soft underbelly I am also loathe to shine a spotlight on my flaws. There are plenty of those- one of them being that I take things too much to heart- so let’s leave it at that.
I’ve forgotten what the point of this post was.
And to think no alcohol has been involved in this gibberish.
By hissychick | March 11, 2013
Monday mornings suck. Commuting sucks. Domestic drudgery sucks.
The mundane sucks.
And that is how the impure thoughts started sneaking in. Combined with the right mood music (not quite as gentle and romantic as you might think either) and I am off with the…well let’s just say I have a smirk on my face.
I am beginning to understand the cliche of the bored housewife with her Mills and Boon, however me being me it involves rampant sapiosexual fantasies. It’s more about the mind- and sharply intelligent humour- than it is about the physique for me. Although if you encapsulate super funny smart in a stereotypical fireman’s body you may never hear from me again.
Now I’ve gone all giggly shy school girl. I’m not even sure what I am trying to write about here. Suffice to say that I am likely to continue to escape into my head for a little while until I am distracted by the next mood swing.
Dirty, dirty mind. Writers of high quality literature- get on the case post haste.