HONESTLY IT'S NOT MY FAULT!!!
I'm just... addicted to healthy food.
It doesn't mean that I can't sneak in some ice cream or dessert, because I still love those, I do. But... I like vegetables and I wish I knew how to make more vegetarian foods. And I've given up chips for chex mix.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!
Luckily, I don't have any drive to exercise. Still safe there.
On a side note, this is one of my recent addictive songs:
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Impressive
One of the most difficult problems in dealing with people is that you don't know what they think of you. I realize that although it would be wonderful people's thoughts to be known, it would also be cataclysmic, so I'm happy as things are.
There's always the mantra that one shouldn't value oneself on what others think, but what others think of you matters quite a bit. But that's a different argument for a different time. To sum up: I care about what others think about me and I don't plan on giving that up anytime soon. Thus, I want to be impressive.
I don't think I'm too bad at it. I watch myself closely enough most of the time not to do anything too stupid, and I'm kind enough not to get anybody mad at me (I think). I'm blessed with wit and a normal enough face (although not superb handsomeness, much to my chagrin, but you take what you can get) that I can make a nice circle of friends. I even have the advantage of having an odd but skilled talent to flaunt at talent shows.
Still though, I can't help feeling inferior. Especially when Mr. Impressive himself is my roommate. Average height, good smile, funny, brilliant, hard worker, chivalric, built, clean, the works. One of those guys you just can't hate because they're a great person, but you really want to because they're a better person than you are. (Although, I'm not sure he has more than one emotion. It's been weeks and I've never seen him anything but happy.) I know it's petty, but it still stings when your FHE mom is at your apartment and wants him to come home, but doesn't care that you're there. It's not so fun when you and you roommate are at the mall and the girls you home teach know your roommate, but you don't really get introduced. You feel stupid when your roommate is taking a class you already took and probably getting a better grade than you did.
And the worst part is: I don't know if he likes me. I would like to be friends, but I can't tell if he thinks I'm worthwhile. I'm certain he doesn't dislike me (I'm very good at getting people not to dislike me), but I still wish he wanted to be friends with me too. And if he does already, it'd be nice to know that.
On a related side note, my music loves me.
"They Have A Name" by The Chap started playing while I was writing this.
"Heartthrob Heartthrob Heartthrob hits the ladies.
Up the road and way beyond
They have a name
They have a name for boys like him,
Boys like him!"
There's always the mantra that one shouldn't value oneself on what others think, but what others think of you matters quite a bit. But that's a different argument for a different time. To sum up: I care about what others think about me and I don't plan on giving that up anytime soon. Thus, I want to be impressive.
I don't think I'm too bad at it. I watch myself closely enough most of the time not to do anything too stupid, and I'm kind enough not to get anybody mad at me (I think). I'm blessed with wit and a normal enough face (although not superb handsomeness, much to my chagrin, but you take what you can get) that I can make a nice circle of friends. I even have the advantage of having an odd but skilled talent to flaunt at talent shows.
Still though, I can't help feeling inferior. Especially when Mr. Impressive himself is my roommate. Average height, good smile, funny, brilliant, hard worker, chivalric, built, clean, the works. One of those guys you just can't hate because they're a great person, but you really want to because they're a better person than you are. (Although, I'm not sure he has more than one emotion. It's been weeks and I've never seen him anything but happy.) I know it's petty, but it still stings when your FHE mom is at your apartment and wants him to come home, but doesn't care that you're there. It's not so fun when you and you roommate are at the mall and the girls you home teach know your roommate, but you don't really get introduced. You feel stupid when your roommate is taking a class you already took and probably getting a better grade than you did.
And the worst part is: I don't know if he likes me. I would like to be friends, but I can't tell if he thinks I'm worthwhile. I'm certain he doesn't dislike me (I'm very good at getting people not to dislike me), but I still wish he wanted to be friends with me too. And if he does already, it'd be nice to know that.
On a related side note, my music loves me.
"They Have A Name" by The Chap started playing while I was writing this.
"Heartthrob Heartthrob Heartthrob hits the ladies.
Up the road and way beyond
They have a name
They have a name for boys like him,
Boys like him!"
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