Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Saturday, Sept. 01, 2007 - 4:32 a.m.

I am a negative person, yo. I have come to face this, painful as it is. I don't mean to be. I don't want to be. I just am, apparently. I'm not even sure when that happened, because I don't know whether or not I always have been. Considering my nicknames when I was a kid were Smiley and Sunshine (and no, not in an ironic way), though, I kinda doubt it. I just left my optimism somewhere back there (waaaaaay back there) along the way. And probably depression isn't helping. I should really do somethng about that...

I picked up a self-improvement relationship book called "Secrets of an Irresistible Woman: Smart Rules for Capturing His Heart" to reshelve it tonight, and as I do occasionally, I opened it up to a random page and read the last paragraph, and the paragraph I read said that if I go on missionary work of some sort, that I should avoid dating the other missionaries, because I will inevitably find myself disrespected in some way, so I should just keep to myself and keep my eye on the straight and narrow path (I am so NOT exaggerating here), and that in this way, I will see my future husband coming. And I'll be sure to recognize him, because (and I quote verbatim), "He will look just like your daddy."

::Insert soul-hurling sound of violent, utter revulsion right here::

That just makes my flesh crawl, frankly. A) Who the hell writes something like that, especially with a straight face? B) Good god, are there women who actually want to marry their "daddies"? C) The woman who wrote that should probably seek some serious psychotherapy, and very clearly needs to step away from the Freudian shrink. D) I can think of no more unhealthy relationship in the entire world than with a man who even slightly approaches my father's temperament, unless it is with one who approaches my mother's. (Oh wait, been there. My bad.) E) Gyaa-aaah-uuhhh. ::shudder shudder shudder:: F) Did I mention the flesh crawling? G) I'm pretty sure my soul throws up more than a little in its mouth every time I revisit that sentence.

Oh, hmm. I just looked her up, and Michelle McKinney Hammond, the author of that ridiculous treatise is an evangelist. Quelle surprise. Most of my evangelical friends are very big endorsers and preachers of the whole women should defer to their fathers and then their husbands thing, so in that light, it's not so surprising. I've been told on more than one occasion that if I could just learn my place when it comes to my relationships with men, I'd be a lot happier, so I guess someone with that viewpoint would think a relationship with my "daddy" would be good for me.

Ick. I will never, ever write that sentence again. I have now literally shuddered twice over it. It really does just make my flesh crawl.

Tonight's house temperature at 1am? 95. Ah, summer. Thou art so...sucky. At least when it comes to no a/c. What kind of a tool lives in the desert without air conditioning? Oh. Wait...

I can't wait until the end of November, when it will cool down to the 80s every day. I'm telling you people, when I finally win my 100 Million Dollars, I am buying myself a house with the most kickass central heat and air unit on the planet, and I am blasting that thing every single day, the ozone be damned. And okay, sure, I leave a much smaller carbon footprint now, what with not having a central air unit to run, but it sucks to live in a house that is 100 degrees inside, STILL, at 5am for 4-5 months out of every year and requires you to wear a parka and gloves inside for 3 of the other 7.

Ohmigod, these new birth control pills are so not working. They're supposed to curb my PMS irritability, and frankly, if this is what it's like when it's curbed, I can not imagine what I'd be feeling like otherwise right now. Because I kinda want to punch holes in things at the moment. I really, really do. I think I will go lie there in my bed and sweat for an hour or two before exhaustion finally claims me so that I can sleep in this freaking heat.

yours in extreme agitation,
kd

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