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[m4w] hello tasty compassion
Jan. 13th, 2004 11:00 ama fair amount of this book appears to be cribbed from addiction-recovery groups. She's referenced AA by name a few times already.
Don't become ruthless in your goals, or lose touch with humanity. Your personality is part of your CV, dipshit.
The most ruthless part of me is my desire to get to the truth, underneath all the protective layers. Discretion often feels like dishonesty. Everyone has at least one minor (self-)delusion in the foundation of their personalities. So this inevitably backfires. I'm getting a little better at keeping secrets, but I have a long way to go.
That said, of course, I don't hide my LJ, but I don't exactly advertise it to people who don't already know. My family and hometown friends have google like the rest of us and my nickname is unique. They'll turn up soon enough. Reminds me of that recent New York Times article about blogging, and how most are under the age of 30.
Is my public journaling a denial of my advancing age? Hmmm.
Yesterday I had nothing scheduled after work and could spend hours at the gym. I wanted to try out the "African Dance" class but remembered feeling odd when I wore my running clothes to a similar class last week, so I wore my leopard print pajama bottoms. Felt horribly incapable of picking up the steps and keeping the rhythm. When the class reached the point where we were dancing in a circle. People were randomly thrown in the middle to solo. I was filled with dread.
Of course I was picked.
I freeformed a la the stuff I used to do in my mom's basement, trying to work in one of the moves from the class every now and again. Which felt great until I remembered Actual People Were Staring At Me This Time. I must've done something right. A couple classmates complimented me. The instructor engaged me in a full-on conversation in the jacuzzi afterwards. Usually the jacuzzi is a strict "not looking at your tits, your ass, your tattoos, weird birthmarks, your lack of as nice a figure as mine despite the fact that I'm fat and you're not, etc." game. Acknowledging someone I don't socialize with outside the gym requires constant eye-contact and is usually verboten. Granted, she's a staff member, so it can be an exception.
It still felt weird, and a little validating. When I was 14, I dreamt of having an audience like that.
Don't become ruthless in your goals, or lose touch with humanity. Your personality is part of your CV, dipshit.
The most ruthless part of me is my desire to get to the truth, underneath all the protective layers. Discretion often feels like dishonesty. Everyone has at least one minor (self-)delusion in the foundation of their personalities. So this inevitably backfires. I'm getting a little better at keeping secrets, but I have a long way to go.
That said, of course, I don't hide my LJ, but I don't exactly advertise it to people who don't already know. My family and hometown friends have google like the rest of us and my nickname is unique. They'll turn up soon enough. Reminds me of that recent New York Times article about blogging, and how most are under the age of 30.
Is my public journaling a denial of my advancing age? Hmmm.
Yesterday I had nothing scheduled after work and could spend hours at the gym. I wanted to try out the "African Dance" class but remembered feeling odd when I wore my running clothes to a similar class last week, so I wore my leopard print pajama bottoms. Felt horribly incapable of picking up the steps and keeping the rhythm. When the class reached the point where we were dancing in a circle. People were randomly thrown in the middle to solo. I was filled with dread.
Of course I was picked.
I freeformed a la the stuff I used to do in my mom's basement, trying to work in one of the moves from the class every now and again. Which felt great until I remembered Actual People Were Staring At Me This Time. I must've done something right. A couple classmates complimented me. The instructor engaged me in a full-on conversation in the jacuzzi afterwards. Usually the jacuzzi is a strict "not looking at your tits, your ass, your tattoos, weird birthmarks, your lack of as nice a figure as mine despite the fact that I'm fat and you're not, etc." game. Acknowledging someone I don't socialize with outside the gym requires constant eye-contact and is usually verboten. Granted, she's a staff member, so it can be an exception.
It still felt weird, and a little validating. When I was 14, I dreamt of having an audience like that.
