Heart on my sleeve, is the saying, right? At this point I wish I could find my heart. That big, swollen glob of overemoting muscle has disappeared, it seems. I don't mean that I'm unfeeling, but I have yet to really fall for someone this year. Since I moved to Vancouver, really. I haven't gotten vulnerable. Some might say this is a good thing, but let's be honest: it's very unlike me, very uncharacteristic of me, to not have some guy that I'm chasing after. The question is posed: which of our characteristics are favorable and which are unfavorable to keep? I feel like I have spent a long time working on the characteristics that I find to be unfavorable for myself, but maybe I'm working on the wrong ones.
Why haven't I spent more time getting my disorder in order? I still pick, I still scratch, and the original reasons for the picking are gone. That's a problem. Why don't I work on that? Instead I'm so insistent on the novel, reliving and rewriting things that are no longer at the forefront of my emotions. I'm not doubting the importance of the novel, it's still number one on my list of things to do and it's still getting done (SIDE NOTE: I totally sent 50 pages of my manuscript to that agent. Maybe it's bad luck to say it here, because then if I get rejected I'll have to post the rejection. No, it's good. That's what this blog is for. Public humiliation). I'm just wondering if we have to prioritize our crazies or if we can assume that some will take care of themselves.
This blog has gotten away from me, as my original intent was to express my confusion at my lack of a crush. Is this a bad thing?
