Very Weird Blog...Mostly Drivel

I have lots of opinions. I try to keep them to myself. Never ask me what I think on a subject unless you really want to know. I really wish I could keep my mouth shut on more subjects than I already do. When I was young, I didn't talk much. And, gosh, it's nice not to have to talk to people at work anymore. Working at Alfa wasn't so bad, there was always lots of work to do...always a customer coming in for service. Wait, that's not true, regardless of how busy one might be, there was occasionally an agent who wasn't busy, that wanted to get in your business, especially female agents. And at State Farm, busy or not, there was always someone leaning into your cubical, trying to get to know you. I sound like an old grouch. However, I was paid to be there working, not to entertain. There is a reason I'm like this. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I'm still having nightmares that conjure up the emotions I had as a child when people, on purpose or not, made me feel bad about myself. I don't know what that means, or how it happens. An example would be of me standing in a group of people (girls) and everyone is involved in a conversation that I desperately want to be included in, but every time I open my mouth to speak, someone else talks over me or the topic has changed, they've moved on. I think I was just too slow and soft spoken, too, because if I ever did get a chance to get a word in edgewise, they must not have been able to hear me because I would just get a glance, if that. So, I was thought of as the quiet type. I hate being invisible, but I hate being noticed for being a bumbling idiot worse. And I hate these dreams that I keep having, that put me back in that awkward position. Why are these images of people from my past taunting me? Flashes of family, friends, co-workers, mere acquaintances even, rolling their eyes and smirking at one another, over how I look, something I've said, or the fact that I'm trying to be part of their group, I don't know. Don't you know that if I knew, I would have tried to fix it. Except you can't fix poor. Not when you're a kid, anyway. Thank goodness the grunge look was in when I went to college, and it was all the rage with the Montevallo art crowd, so I got a little reprieve. I blame this self-tormenting that I do on social networking. Haha! It's my fault but there must be something/someone else to blame, right? I log on and there they are, friends that I was never friends with, with their updated statuses. And there I am, not saying a thing, because I don't think I have anything worthwhile to say. This has to be why they are on my mind, in my dreams, and still treating me like I'm the invisible girl starring in a John Hughes film. I do wake up feeling like a nothing. Luckily, I can roll over and look at my dear beautiful Lee sleeping beside me and know it's not true. And then, around the time he leaves for work, I get a second reality check, a phone call from my angel of a friend, my seester, Robin; she likes a good '80's movies, though :D

So after rolling all this around in my head, I realize that I, simply, am who I am. And sometimes that means being that little kid in my dreams, and besides, I'm used to the strange looks I still manage to steal from people. One must never forget where they came from. Try. Bet you can't.