![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
SA 10/21 Covetous Comparisons
Oct. 21st, 2002 10:36 pmShe mentions a favorite poem of envious writers. A google search shows that it is already on LJ!
Comparisons are pure psychological masochism. The speed of healing from such scars is arbitrary, so, watch out. Everyone falls short when they compare themselves to others. Someone out there is better than you somehow, except maybe spiritually, and only because that sort of thing is impossible to truly determine.
I found out today that only three people were called back for a second interview. That was reassuring.
At a pre-party construction foo tonight, I acknowledged my fear of power tools and just politely stepped out of the way of the staplegun. When it came time to troubleshoot how to make the insulation foam look like rock, or how to fix the cardboard to the surfaces, shape it, and further protect the walls with newspaper, I managed to not assume they always knew better, simply because I have powertool AntiClue.
But, I fell into the comparison trap anyway, (as usual) while discussing my abysmal romantic history. I have neither successful long-term relationships nor much in the way of racy slut stories to make up for that vacuum, or perceived vacuum. Mostly perceived by me. Other folks don’t care until I make them care. If I see myself a failure for these things, I invariably broadcast it.
When I consider my fellow monks, I don’t judge them for it unless they lament like I do, or something. Comparisons not only make you feel like a failure, but they are a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not as if knowing this has helped me fix said feature all that much.
Although, as Fling points out, I do have some stories. Then again, he was surprised by the mere fact that, yeah, I have smooched a few girls. We just won’t mention Mardi Gras then, ok? I mean, it didn’t seem racy at the time because no one was hogtied or anything like the infamous antics of Queen, or the merely legendary tales of Medge. I suppose it’s all spin really.
Today’s purchase of a Red Push-Up Bra now seems incredibly well-timed. Mwa ha ha thundertits.
I really should have more juicy stories... considering how many people have seen me model my bra.
Comparisons are pure psychological masochism. The speed of healing from such scars is arbitrary, so, watch out. Everyone falls short when they compare themselves to others. Someone out there is better than you somehow, except maybe spiritually, and only because that sort of thing is impossible to truly determine.
I found out today that only three people were called back for a second interview. That was reassuring.
At a pre-party construction foo tonight, I acknowledged my fear of power tools and just politely stepped out of the way of the staplegun. When it came time to troubleshoot how to make the insulation foam look like rock, or how to fix the cardboard to the surfaces, shape it, and further protect the walls with newspaper, I managed to not assume they always knew better, simply because I have powertool AntiClue.
But, I fell into the comparison trap anyway, (as usual) while discussing my abysmal romantic history. I have neither successful long-term relationships nor much in the way of racy slut stories to make up for that vacuum, or perceived vacuum. Mostly perceived by me. Other folks don’t care until I make them care. If I see myself a failure for these things, I invariably broadcast it.
When I consider my fellow monks, I don’t judge them for it unless they lament like I do, or something. Comparisons not only make you feel like a failure, but they are a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not as if knowing this has helped me fix said feature all that much.
Although, as Fling points out, I do have some stories. Then again, he was surprised by the mere fact that, yeah, I have smooched a few girls. We just won’t mention Mardi Gras then, ok? I mean, it didn’t seem racy at the time because no one was hogtied or anything like the infamous antics of Queen, or the merely legendary tales of Medge. I suppose it’s all spin really.
Today’s purchase of a Red Push-Up Bra now seems incredibly well-timed. Mwa ha ha thundertits.
I really should have more juicy stories... considering how many people have seen me model my bra.
